The Irish Eyes
by StEpPiNg StOnEs
Summary: Seamus was always there, whether Bridey liked it or not. As they grow older, Bridey has mixed feelings for him. She's irritated with him but also finds herself inexplicably drawn to him This is the story of their relationship--the ups, downs,etc.Summ.in
1. Prologue

**Summary: **Seamus was always there, whether Bridey liked it or not. Their mothers were best friends from their Hogwarts days and ended up living next door to each other. So, subsequently, they grew up together. They are very close together, and Bridey is infatuated with him. As they grow older, Bridey has mixed feelings for him. She's irritated that he's changed, but also finds herself inexplicably drawn to him and his Irish eyes. This is the story of their relationship in all of its stages--the ups, the downs, and everything in between.

* * *

It was one of those rare days in Ireland—the kind of day where no rain fell and the clouds parted from the sky. Sunlight filled the clear air and glinted off of golden fields of wheat. Wind gently brushed the green grass. It was a beautiful day—a perfect day in Ballinafad, a small village in the county Sligo. Just outside of the village, in vast fields of green, stood two young children—a boy and a girl standing hand in hand— each a half a mile from their home.

The girl glanced nervously back at her cottage. She could feel panic crawling up her spine and she froze. Her mother would be so worried when she noticed…

"Don't you trust me?"

The girl quickly turned back towards her companion. There was a frown tugging at his lips and his eyebrows were drawn tightly together; the girl could see a sadness in his eyes. She hated to see him looking sad.

"Of course," she whispered, nodding her head meekly.

"Good." He gave her hand a squeeze and flashed her his famous grin; it was a mischievous smile that lit up his whole face. His light blue eyes shone with the light. Whenever the girl saw that smile, she couldn't help but to smile herself, despite the voice of warning that shouted out in the back of her mind.

"Where are we going anyway?" She glanced back over her shoulder at her house. It looked so small—so distant. She couldn't help but worry how her mom would react. Her mind started to race; her heart was pounding. For a seven-year-old, she thought an awful lot and worried even more. She tightened her grip on her companion's hand.

"I just want to show you something."

"Well where is it?" the girl demanded.

"Bridey, you worry too much." He flashed her another grin and a wink. Despite herself, the girl—Bridey was her name—felt her cheeks burn red. Tripping on her own feet, she stumbled forward, nearly wrenching her hand from his.

"Are you okay?" he asked. He knit his eyebrows together in concern as he stabilized his friend.

"I'm fine," she murmured, her cheeks growing hotter.

"Don't worry, we're almost there."

The pair walked on for a few minutes. Bridey could see a shape starting to take form on the horizon. As they got closer, she realized it was a big pile of stones. Curious, she started to walk faster. Soon, her hand slipped out of that of her companion and she was running ahead, her slight little legs carrying her swiftly across the flat landscape.

"Hey! Bridey, that's not fair!"

But she was already there, standing beside the pile of stone with a look of wonder on her young face. The stones stood higher than she had expected, and they weren't exactly in a pile. She wandered around it curiously, racking her brain to think of what it was. Her mother had shown her pictures before of things similar, and she had seen many old castles, but this one seemed different. It was smaller and even more mystical.

"Seamus, what is it?" She looked up at the older boy, expecting him to know, just as he always did.

"I dunno. It's great though, innit it?" He grinned broadly at her, his eyes glimmering. "We could play adventurer here! We could fly out and—" He stopped himself and looked over at Bridey. Once again, her face had taken on a nervous expression.

"I don't care for flying."

"You could ride with me! C'mon Bridey, it would be fun!"

Bridey frowned in thought and lowered herself to the ground. Adventure and flying was all fine and dandy in writing, but the real thing always worried her. Seamus was constantly dragging her off with him on these little quests, and as fun as they were, they scared her. She was only seven, and he was nine. Two years didn't seem like much of a difference, but there was a great distinction between the two ages.

"Please?"

"Oh, alright."

She was too willing to do what he wanted. All it took was one pleading look or a grin and her little heart melted.

"I promise I'll _always_ take care of you."

"You better," Bridey warned. "Your mum'll kill you if anything happens to me."

Seamus laughed airily. Everything about him was so carefree; Bridey envied him. She had never been like that. Her mother called her her "little Grandma." Bridey was constantly fretting over small matters and she used caution where most others her age acted impulsively. She thought too much and acted too little. Even at her young age, she had come to the conclusion that their differences were what drew her to Seamus.

"So whadda ya think this was?" He stretched himself across the grass, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Oh, it could have been anything," Bridey replied thoughtfully. "A part of a castle, maybe, or a house? Or maybe a shed to someone's farm. I bet that, whatever it was, there was magic here."

"Why do you suppose that?"

"Well, why else wouldn't we have seen it before? It could have been hidden by a charm, but it wore off. What do you think?"

"I think," Seamus began, crawling to his feet, "that you are much too smart to only be seven. Are you sure that is all you are?"

Bridey blushed and ducked her head. "Yes. My birthday was just a few weeks ago."

Seamus grinned again, shaking his head. "I know it was. I was only joking."

"Oh." She felt her blush deepen once again.

"But, speaking of your birthday…I have something for you."

The girl's eyes widened in surprise; she felt her heart skip a beat. "You-you do?"

"O'course! I couldn't ferget my little Bride's birthday, now could I?"

Bridey had to hide her face completely, hoping he didn't notice how bright she became at the use of his nickname for her.

"Well? Don't yeh want to know what it is?"

"Of course I do!"

"I really think you'll like it."

"Now you're getting me all curious!"

"Good!" he exclaimed, his impish grin spreading across his face again. He wordlessly started to head back towards the houses. Bridey gasped and jumped over the rocks, nearly tripping as she tried to catch up with him.

"You were just going to leave me?"

"Of course not!"

"It looked like you were."

"I could never leave you." He paused and looked at her curiously. He smiled, but it wasn't the same as usual. "Like you said, me mum would kill me." He took a long look up at the clear blue sky before saying, "Do you want your present now? I have it with me?"

"You do?!" Bridey exclaimed. A grin broke out across her face; she couldn't imagine what he would have gotten her.

"Yes I do. I've been saving up for it a long time, you know," he said, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a green box. "So I really hope you like it." He hesitated for a moment, frowning slightly at the box in his hand. It wasn't wrapped, and the edges were a little worn down from previous uses. But the contents, he knew, were better than the box suggested. "Here."

Bridey carefully took the box in her hands. Seamus watched her face, and was pleased to see that she was not put off by its presentation. She carefully removed the Spellotape from the edges and lifted the lid. A smile lit up her round face.

"Thank you," she squeaked.

"You're welcome," Seamus bashfully answered, digging his foot into the ground. "My mom said you'd like it, and I thought it was pretty enough."

"It is. Thank you, Seamus."

"Do you want me to put it on for you?"

"Oh, yes please." She lifted the gift from out of the box. It was a necklace,

silver and delicate. There was one single charm on it—a claddagh with a small green jewel on the heart.

Seamus gently took the necklace from her and clipped it around her neck. He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before leaning in and giving her a quick peck on the cheek. Then, without a second thought, he sprinted off. Bridey gasped, her face coloring again as she sprinted after him.

As usual, he had caught her off guard.

"Seamus! Wait up!"

"Never! You'll have to catch me!"

She picked up her pace, running harder and harder, but he always seemed just out of reach. She was growing breathless and weary. She couldn't keep this up forever. Eventually, she'd have to give up the chase and just move along.


	2. Chapter One

**_Chapter One_** ‡Aboard the Hogwarts Express

* * *

"I hate him, Mum. I _hate_ him. I really do."

"Who do you hate?"

"Seamus, of course."

"Seamus Finnigan?"

"Who else?"

"Oh, Bridey, stop being silly. Of course you don't hate him!" Mum picked up the _Daily Prophet_ satisfied that the conflict that was resolved. She wasn't even going to bother asking what was wrong. Just as well anyway. She'd just tell Mrs. Finnigan, who would yell at Seamus, and then he'd come over to taunt me. And I didn't want to have to deal with him. Not ever again.

"I'm not being silly," I grumbled. Dropping my dishes in the sink, I stormed out of the kitchen and up to my room. It was a disaster area up there. Books and clothes were thrown everywhere. I didn't know how it had happened. I had started out with everything neatly organized. All of my books had been in a stack—organized by size—and clothes were in neat piles on one side of the books. Other school supplies were in my cauldron on the other side of the books. I had been working on getting some other things together when the mess happened.

The beginnings of it were my fault, I'll admit it. I got a bit carried away in looking for my things and…well, things were thrown. But the rest I blamed solely on Seamus.

His mum had sent him over to help me pack. She thought that he could give me some ideas on what I would need for my first year at Hogwarts, since he had already been through it and all. Naturally, I wasn't totally disgusted by the idea. I was having difficulty with what I should bring, and Seamus wasn't totally useless in that area. And it would be nice to see him again. I hadn't seen him much in the past two years, what with him being away at school and all.

But he had changed—changed in ways I couldn't even name. He wasn't as sweet as he used to be; he seemed even more restless. But, worst of all, he never had time for me anymore.

So, when he came over, I was pretty pleased. I heard him trudging up the stairs and ran to greet him, smiling foolishly with my heart skipping in my chest absurdly. It hadn't been _that _long since I had seen him—he lived next door after all. It just felt like it had been ages; he had spent most of the summer either with friends or at a beach house on the west coast.

"Seamus!" I had breathlessly exclaimed.

"Hello Bridey," he had greeted shortly. He smiled—a softer, diluted shadow of his grin—and nodded. I had been expecting a hug, though I would never initiate it myself.

He didn't either.

"Let's get to work then, eh? I was going to go for a ride before dinner."

Seamus took no notice of the organization of my things. He had never cared for order. All I could do was watch in horror as he threw things around, deciding for me what stayed and what went. He boldly started to rummage through my drawers, which was where I drew the line. I stormed up to him and grabbed his arm. With a strong tug, I yanked it from my drawer.

"What do you think you're doing?" I had demanded.

"I'm helping you!"

"No, you're not! You're trashing my room. I see you're in a rush to go to your last little flight around the country, so just go. I don't need you. I can finish this up on my own."

"Bride—"

"No. Just leave! Ever since you went to Hogwarts and got sorted into Gryffindor, you haven't been the same. You've been…you've been cocky! And you've been obnoxious. Seamus, I am not going to put up with it. So just go, and I will see you at school." And I turned my back on him.

He didn't say anything, just walked away. Once he was gone I slammed the door and kicked the wall. He was so frustrating! I hated him.

Now, and hour later, I stood facing my room, a frown set in my face. The idea of having to clean this all up was irksome. I hadn't even made the mess—Seamus had. There was no way he would ever come back to tidy up, though. Not that I would even want him to. I was never speaking to him again—I was determined.

Me and Seamus Finnigan—we were finished.

* * *

"Bridey! Come on, let's go!"

"I'll be right there, Pa!"

It was the first of September—the day I left for Hogwarts. I could feel the anticipation tickling my stomach. I had been waiting for this day for years. I must have read _Hogwarts, A History _a dozen times to prepare myself for this. I was ready.

I took one last look around my room. It would be my last time seeing it until Christmas. It was clean—all clean. I had spent a decent amount of time straightening out the mess Seamus had created for me, and then some more fixing up what hadn't been just right before.

"Bridey! The Finnigans are waiting for us!"

I growled at the mention of the name. Of course, I had nothing against Mr. or Mrs. Finnigan; they were like family to me. I was still very bothered with their son.

With a sigh, I glanced into my mirror for a final check-up. My light brown hair was pinned back out of my round face, a habit which I had picked up when my hair started to constantly fall in my eyes. I hated things to obscure my vision. And besides, I rather liked my eyes. They were a little on the large side, but they weren't buggish, and they had a nice, dark blue color—almost indigo, I liked to imagine.

"**_Bridey!_**"

"Coming, Mum!"

I turned to leave my room when my eyes caught on a silver flash in my reflection, followed by a glint of green. The claddagh. I was tempted to rip it off my neck and throw it in the trash, but something stopped me—a warm sense of nostalgia. I carefully touched the charm, closing my eyes to recall that day. I remembered it all so clearly still, although it was already four years ago.

"We are going to be late if you don't get down here right now!"

I ripped myself out of my mind and sprinted out of my room and down the stairs, taking them two at a time. My parents were waiting by the front door impatiently. Outside, the Finnigans were waiting by a car.

"Why don't we just go by Floo Powder?" I asked. I was dreading sitting in a car with Seamus for any length of time.

"You don't want to get all dirty, do you?"

I looked down at the clothes I had put so much thought into wearing; when I looked up, my mum was looking at me knowingly. "That's why," she said. "There is a Portkey waiting for the six of us a mile or so away. It will take us to King's Cross."

"Oh, okay." I cast a quick look at Seamus. He looked tall, something I hadn't had the opportunity to notice the other day. He had grown his sandy hair out so it spilled across his forehead. He was only thirteen, but once again, the age difference between us seemed remarkable. Was it really only two years?

The car was rather cramped. We had to fit six people in five seats. Seamus and his dad sat up front with the driver; I got stuck sitting on my father's lap with his arms wrapped tight around me like a seat belt.

"What House do you think I'll be in?" I wondered. I already had some ideas—or hopes, rather—but I wanted to see what everyone else thought.

"Maybe you'll be in Hufflepuff like me and your Auntie Fiona were," Mum suggested, smiling brightly at the thought. She had been suggesting that hopefully for years. For whatever reason, the idea of me following in the footsteps of her and Mrs. Finnigan really appealed to her. Apparently, the two had had great fun in their house in their day and Mum felt like it would do for me.

Well, I hoped not.

"Oh, don't be silly Oriella," Mrs. Finnigan laughed. "Bridey's too smart for the Hufflepuff lot. Wouldn't you agree, Patrick?"

Mr. Finnigan turned around. "Well, I don't really know enough about the houses to judge, do I? I do agree Bridey is quite bright, though, if that helps." He glanced over at me and winked; I smiled gratefully back at him.

"Wouldn't it be funny," Seamus began, turning in his seat to look at me, "if the Sorting Hat couldn't find anywhere to put you and you had to be sent back home?"

"Funny, I heard that almost happened to you," I retorted coolly. Seamus's face fell and his ears turned red. "Didn't the Sorting Hat sit on your head for a minute before putting you in Gryffindor?"

"For your information, it was only _nearly_ a minute! And that was only because there was a lot to consider!"

"Bridey, be nice," my dad whispered into my hair.

"Fine," I grumbled. "What house do you think I'll be in, Daddy?"

"I think you could be in any House you wanted. Though, really," he leaned in close to whisper, "you'd do best in Ravenclaw, my little brain."

"Oh, I hope so!"

* * *

"Okay, Bridey. This is it."

"Oh, Ma, there's no need to get all teary. I'll be back for Christmas."

"I know, but…Well, it just seems that you have grown up so fast. I swear, just the other day you were—"

The whistle sounded—one minute until departure.

"Mum, I have to go. I love you."

"I love you, too, sweetie. Brian! Brian, she has to go!"

My dad excused himself from conversation with the Finnigans and came over to say goodbye. I wrapped my arms tightly around his middle and he gave me a tight squeeze. Then, kissing the top of my head, he stepped back.

"You better get going there, Bridey. Don't forget to tell us where you get sorted."

"I won't. Love you, Daddy."

"Love you too."

I climbed onto the train and the whistle blew again. "Say goodbye to the Finnigans for me!" I called out the window.

"Of course, of course! Oh, sweetie, I forgot to give you this." Mum pulled a folded bit of cloth from her jacket pocket. "Hang it up in your room! And be careful!"

"I will. Thanks, Mum!"

The train began to pull away from the platform. Mum and Pa continued to wave until we rounded the corner, and I couldn't see them anymore. I sighed and turned away from the window. Now I just needed to find a seat. Grabbing onto my trunk, I slowly made my way down the corridor in search of a friendly face.

There was one compartment with just two girls in it. I hesitated before the sliding door. It was impossible to tell their characters by their looks so I had no way of judging whether or not they would let me in.

I had to try though.

Taking a deep breath I slid open the door. "Hello," I said shyly. "May I sit here?"

One of the girls looked up. She had long, dark, curly hair and pale green eyes. She stared at me for a moment, and I was afraid that she was going to slap me. She had a sort of mean looking face. Her lips were large and pouty, and her eyes expressed no emotion.

Finally, she replied, "Sure," with a simple shrug.

I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

"Thanks." I dragged myself the rest of the way into the compartment and slid the door shut behind me. "I'm Bridey, by the way."

"Sandra Abrams," the dark-haired girl replied, extending her hand to me. "Pleasure to meet you."

"You, too," I said, giving her dainty hand a firm shake. Then I turned towards the other girl.

She was sort of mousy, I guess you could say. She had long, thick, brown hair pulled back with a headband. Her face was delicate looking—thin, but soft. She had big, brown, doe-like eyes. She seemed to be very…small.

However, when she stood up I realized how wrong I was. While she did have a slight frame, she was actually quite tall, especially for someone I assumed to be eleven, like me.

"I'm Emma Tooley," she said, holding out her hand. I took it and gave it a shake.

"It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too." Emma sat back down and I took the seat beside her. She was much more approachable than Sandra.

"So, Bridey," Sandra began, flicking her hair over her shoulder, "are you a first year?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Me, too!" Emma exclaimed. "I'm so nervous for the Sorting! Sandra was just telling me about it. Everyone sees—it's so embarrassing."

"Sandra was telling you?" I turned towards the dark haired girl. "What year are you in?"

"I'm a second year."

"What house are you in?"

"Slytherin," she answered, defiantly sticking her chin in the air, as if daring either of us to mock her house. I had heard terrible things about the house from Seamus, but I didn't dare say anything. Besides, they couldn't all be bad in there. _Hogwarts, A History_ would have mentioned something if they were.

"Do you like it there?" I asked. It seemed like a safe question.

"Yes. It really isn't so bad as everyone says. Or at least, I don't think so."

"Well, that's good." I really had nothing else to say on the subject. I didn't want to be in Slytherin, and I wasn't particularly interested in what it was like there. So, turning to Emma, I said "What House do you think you'll be in?"

"Oh, I don't know! I hope I'm in Gryffindor though. They seem so…so…"

"Prattish?" I suggested. I was still bitter about Seamus. He had also hoped to be in Gryffindor, "where dwell the brave of heart." That was what had gotten him. He wanted everyone to know about his courage.

Emma's face fell, and I immediately felt bad. But before I could apologize, Sandra said, "Do you want to be in Slytherin?"

"Oh. Well…no. I just have a…_neighbor_ in Gryffindor, and he is very…Well, I am angry with him at the moment. Sorry, Emma. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. They aren't all like that there, I'm sure."

"It's okay," she said, smiling softly. "I'm not very brave, anyway. And the other Houses all seem nice, too. So where do you want to be sorted?"

"I'm hoping Ravenclaw. Nothing else really seems to fit for me."

"Oh, I know how you feel. I don't know if _any_ of them really fit for me."

"I'm sure one of them does. Don't worry. We all fit somewhere."

Despite my words, I couldn't help worrying. What if Seamus was right? What if there was nowhere for me?

I didn't want to think about it.

* * *

It was a dreary day outside, though I didn't really notice. It was just the sort of weather I was used to—cloudy and rainy. It wasn't until after we had finished eating our treats from the trolley and I was resting my head against the window that I really realized how bad it was. Dark clouds were circling overhead and the rain was coming down like a sheet. The windows had misted so much they were tinted gray. I shivered and wrapped my robes tighter around me. I could almost feel the wind whistling through the side of the train.

"Are we almost there yet?" Emma asked Sandra. Made of skin and bones, she was shivering even more than I was.

Sandra squinted towards the window, trying to depict the landscape outside. "I'm not s—" She was interrupted by the slowing of the train. Knitting her eyebrows together, she started again, "That doesn't feel right. It was longer last year, I'd swear it."

"Are you sure?" I asked. Slowly I crossed the compartment and stuck my head out into the corridor. Apparently the rest of the train had had the same idea, because there was a head coming out of nearly every compartment.

The train came to a sudden halt and I was sent flying out into the corridor, colliding with the wall opposite me. I felt some comfort in the fact, though, that I was not the only one—or thing, as the case may be—that was flung forward.

Groaning, I crawled to my feet. My head was spinning and I couldn't see straight. Suddenly, everything went black. I reached forward to grab onto the wall and ended up falling.

"Bridey?" someone called out in a terrified little squeak; it sounded like it was probably Emma.

"I'm-I'm in the hallway," I stuttered. "I can't see anything!"

The door slid open and a hand reached out and grabbed onto my ankle. I yelped, but before I could protest I was being dragged into a compartment.

"Stop!" I finally managed to yell. "Don't touch me! Who are you?"

"You didn't used to me so loud."

"Seamus?" Despite my anger at him, I couldn't help but feel relieved. I was scared, and it was nice to have a familiar presence around me.

"Who else would it be, hm?"

"Well, I don't know!" I cried crossly. "What are you doing dragging me across a floor? You scared the living daylights out of me, you know!"

"Would yeh rather still be lyin' there on the floor?"

"No, of course not. I just—" I was cut off mid-sentence by an abrupt feeling of cold. "Seamus? What's going on?"

"I-I dunno," he stuttered.

I instinctively reached down and grabbed onto his hand. I was afraid he would recoil, especially after the way I had yelled at him the other day, but to my surprise, he squeezed my hand in return.

Out in the corridor, there appeared to be movement. I held my breath and inched closer to the door. It was hard to see due to the blackout, but it looked like several tall, hooded figures were gliding across the floor. As one approached, I turned to ask Seamus what they were, but the question got caught in my mouth. My breathing was constricted and I felt as if there were a cold hand in my chest.

Whatever this thing was, it wasn't good.

I stumbled back, holding even more tightly onto Seamus's hand. He pulled my close to him, but it didn't make any difference. The cold was in my bones; I was miserable. Nothing would ever be right again. My mind suddenly started to reel, replaying all of my worst memories.

And then it was gone.

I loosened my grip on Seamus's hand and pulled away from him. Slowly, the warmth came back to my body. The darkness cleared from my mind and I recalled good memories.

"What the bloody hell _was _that?" an unfamiliar voice exclaimed. I gave a start. I should have assumed that Seamus wasn't sitting by himself, but I hadn't seen anyone.

I released his hand and stepped away. It was one thing to do that when I thought we were alone, but in front of his friends? I must have looked like a baby—a fool. I felt a blush spread across my face.

"I dunno," Seamus repeated. "Bride, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I said defiantly. Honestly, I was a little shaken. Sure, I felt better now that that—that _thing_ was gone, but the idea that something so terrible could exist frightened me. Why had I never read about those?

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm positive." I moved closer to the door. As soon as the lights came back on, I was going to return to Emma and Sandra. Hopefully they were alright…They were probably wondering about me.

"How'd you know where I was, anyway?" I turned back toward my neighbor curiously. I hadn't thought of asking that before.

"Oh, well—I saw you earlier. I would have stopped in to say hi, but you're mad at me."

"Yes—I am."

Ignoring that, Seamus continued, "Dean—my friend here—saw someone crash into the wall. Then I heard someone call your name, and I knew it was you."

"Well why'd you bring me here? I could have gotten to my compartment."

"Claddagh."

"Claddagh? What does _that_ mean?"

The lights flickered back on. After a moment, the train started to pick up pace again. I moved towards the door, but didn't leave, waiting for an answer.

As usual, Seamus decided not to answer. He had always had an irritating habit of eluding questions. "Bridey, this is Dean Thomas. Dean, this is Bridey."

I turned my attention towards the other boy in the compartment. He was tall—very tall—and black. He smiled warmly at me, and there was a weird look in his eye—like he knew who I was or something.

"Nice to meet you," he said pleasantly, holding out his hand to me.

I took it and gave a quick shake, all the while eyeing him suspiciously. "Yes, nice to meet you, too." My gaze shifted towards Seamus again. He was just standing there, silently watching us. His eyes flitted towards my neck; my hand shot up to my necklace.

"You're wearing it, and yet you don't know what I mean by Claddagh?" He shook his head and made a clicking noise with his tongue.

"I'm going back to my compartment," I announced; I had had enough of Seamus for the day. He had been nice for a little while, but he had managed to bother me again. I had developed a very low tolerance for him over the past four years or so. "It was nice to meet you Dean."

Without another word, I left the two boys and crossed the corridor to return to my new friends. As I slid open the door, Emma jumped up from her seat and rushed over to me.

"I was so worried!" she exclaimed. She motioned as if to give me a hug, but stopped herself and instead just grabbed my shoulders. "What were those things? Where'd you go?"

"My fr—neighbor pulled me into his compartment. But I don't know what they were. I couldn't get a good look at them. All I noticed is that they were tall and hooded."

"Their hands…Their hands were scabby," Sandra croaked. I was surprised to see that she had a look similar to fear on her stoic face. It was the first display of emotion I had seen from her yet.

"It was terrifying," Emma said, sitting back down in her seat. She was shaking. "I felt like…like I'd never be happy again."

"Me, too. I couldn't even think of anything happy. It was all just…it was awful!" I shook my head and resumed my seat. All of our trunks had fallen from their storage shelves and were laying in the middle of the floor, but none of us seemed to care. We were too wrapped up in thoughts of those awful creatures that had infiltrated the train to give much consideration to anything else.

I folded my hands over my lap and just stared at them, trying to banish the memories which kept creeping back. The fact that one of my bad memories was Seamus leaving was not something I wanted to think about.

* * *

**a/n** Hello :) I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I am working on the next chapter, so _hopefully_ it shouldn't be too long until it is out :) Anyway, reviews are always appreciated!

xoxo


	3. Chapter Two

_**Chapter Two**_‡The Sorting

* * *

"Firs' years! This way!"

That was the first thing I heard as I stepped off onto the platform. The source of the gruff voice appeared to be a giant of a man standing on the other side of the platform. He held a lantern up high above everyone's heads

"I'll see you both later," Sandra said. She smiled softly at me and Emma and gave a small wave.

"Bye, Sandra!" Emma and I called back in unison and then giggle at the coincidence. Sandra rolled her eyes at us and walked off towards a line or horseless carriages.

Emma hooked her arm through mine and led me across the platform to the large man. As I struggled to keep up with her, I noticed how really tall she was. I had never met anyone my age who was as tall as Emma Tooley. She was very angular, too. Although she had a soft face, her jaw was very sharp. Her elbows were, too. As we walked along, squeezing in tight to make it through the jumble of students, they would jab into my ribs and I would wince.

"Firs' years all here?" the man with the gruff voice called out; he raised the lantern higher. "C'mon, follow me! Mind yer step, now!"

Emma and I walked along with the rest of the first years through a steep, narrow path. It was dark, and the only light we had to guide us was our guide's dim lantern, so there were several collisions during the journey.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' look o' Hogwarts jus' round this bend," the large man announced, glancing over his shoulder at us.

I had read all about Hogwarts, but it was even more magnificent than I had imagined. It was a big castle—_huge_ even—set up on rock above the lake. The lit windows glowed in the dark of the night. I was so transfixed by the sight that I almost didn't hear our guide's announcement that we were only to take four to a boat.

Emma and I skipped over to the edge of the lake and clambered into the first free boat we found. Soon after, we were joined by two boys. I didn't pay much attention to them at first. But, as the boats started to glide across the smooth lake, I stole a glance. It was hard to make them out in the pale light given off by the lantern fronting the boat, but I could make out some basic features of the two. They were bold contrasts of each other. The first had curly black hair, tan skin, and brown eyes; the second had straight pale hair, light skin, and light eyes of some color I couldn't make out.

I wondered which Houses they would be sorted into. The darker of the two was leaning over the edge and dipping his fingers into the water, which gave me the impression he would be a Gryffindor. He even had that glimmer in his eye so typical in that brave house. The second boy seemed like a Hufflepuff, judging by the careful warnings he gave the other boy.

I would be very interested to see where the two actually ended up.

My nerves really hit me when we reached the opposite shore. Everyone else eagerly climbed out of their boats, but I found myself frozen to the spot. It wasn't that I didn't want to get sorted—I did. In my mind, I was even making my way up the steps. However, my mind and body didn't appear to be on the same wave length.

Seriously, though—what if I _didn't_ belong anywhere?

"Sir? Sir!"

"Me?" the gruff voice replied.

"Yes, sir! Bridey isn't moving. She's not even blinking!"

The giant man with the dark bushy hair thundered over to the boat. He bent down and stared at me carefully. I was vaguely aware of this exchange, but I couldn't react. Which was rather unfortunate, really, because my eyes were getting dry.

"Is she breathing?" Emma whispered. "I think she's breathing but—"

"She's breathin' alrigh.' Looks like she's jus' got a case o' nerves, s'all." He looked at me again and sighed. The next thing I knew, I was being lifted into the air, which, with the height of this man, utterly terrified me. Immediately, I was broken from my trance.

"I'm fine!" I squeaked. "Really, please! Put me down!"

"There yeh go," the man said kindly as he put me back to my feet. "Good as new."

"Thank you."

"O' course, o' course. An' listen, don' worry 'bout the Sorting. Yeh'll be fine." He smiled broadly and flashed me a quick wink with his beady eyes. I smiled back gratefully as he walked away.

"You had me worried!" Emma whispered as we ascended the steps to the Entrance Hall. She seemed to worry a lot. "You had been quiet the whole ride, but I had assumed you were just enjoying the sight so I didn't want to bother you—after all, it was lovely. Look at this—it's gorgeous." She ran her hand over one of the marble pillars with a content expression.

"Yes, it is," I agreed. Across from the grand oak doors was the Grand Staircase—a huge, sweeping marble staircase. A balcony hung above the Entrance Hall. Lit torches hung on all of the walls. Six doorways branched off of the hall. The large set of doors on the right was gently opened and I learned that this was the entrance to the dining hall, where the rest of the school appeared to already be seated.

A wizard emerged from behind the doors and approached the mass of new students. He was a tiny little thing with a shock of white hair and a kind face, reminding me strongly of the Muggle garden gnome.

He led us all into one of the rooms branching off of the Entrance Hall. It was small and empty; I wondered if its only purpose was to hold the first years before the Sorting each year.

"Welcome to Hogwarts!" the small wizard squeaked. "In a few minutes, I will take you into the Great Hall and you will be sorted into one of four Houses—Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin. While you are here, your House is your team—your family. You will sleep, eat, and attend classes together. Good behavior will earn your points for your House, while bad behavior will lose them. Whichever House has the most points at the end of the year will receive the House Cup, which is a great honor indeed! I am sure you will all do well!" He beamed around the room at us all—a group which consisted of around forty students. The chances that we would _all _would do well were minimal, but I knew he was just trying to encourage us.

"I will return for you shortly. While I am gone, you may want to fix yourselves up. The Sorting is in front of the whole school, you know!" He smiled at us all again and shuffled out of the chamber.

Emma started to fidget, anxiously adjusting her robes and patting down her hair. Many of the people around us started to act similarly. I calmly brushed down the front of my robes and ran my fingers through my hair. Though I was nervous about the Sorting, I didn't care so much about how I would look during it.

The wizard returned shortly thereafter. He took another look around the room, as if making sure we were all accounted for, as he said, "Alright, everyone— Form a line and follow me."

I shuffled into line in between Emma and a girl with waist-length, honey colored hair. Not even a moment later, we were on our way towards the Great Hall. The Great Hall was like nothing I had ever seen before. The walls were tall and made of some great stone. There were two long tables on either side of the aisle we walked down, with a fifth table at the other end of the hall. Candles floated above the tables, their light reflecting off the glittering gold dishes. But what really made my breath catch in my throat was the ceiling.

I had read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_, but that hadn't prepared me. Above our heads appeared to be the bare night sky. In reality, the ceiling had just been enchanted to appear like the sky above, but that didn't make it any less impressive. I stared up at the stars above, trying to pick out any familiar constellations, and ended up stepping on the heel of the girl in front of me.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"It's alright," she whispered back, casting me a kind smile over her shoulder. I believed she was being sincere, but I also noticed she kept herself a little closer to the person in front of her after that.

The professor leading us stopped before the head table and placed a three-legged stool on the ground. From his sleeve, he then procured a dark, frayed, tattered looking hat—The Sorting Hat. I stared at it in wonder as it sat on the stool. The fact that a simple hat could read minds and personality was a marvel even in the wizarding world.

The whole hall fell silent and turned to look at the worn hat. For that single moment, all was still. Then the hat started to move, as if it were stretching after a long time in storage. A hole in the brim ripped open, and the next thing anyone knew, the hat began to sing:

_Welcome to Hogwarts, one and all  
But before we start the feast  
get quiet; sit up tall--  
there are some new faces to meet._

Here at Hogwarts (School), so steeped in history  
there are four houses to be sorted in—  
a job left up to me.

Brave Gryffindor, the lionheart—  
Come here to get a taste  
of a hero's daring fate.

Sweet Hufflepuff, the trusting one—  
Kind souls will find their space,  
among the loyal students of this place.

Smart Ravenclaw, most clever one—  
Fight with quill and with brain,  
Here your knowledge you will train.

Sly Slytherin, of cunning minds—  
With pride, ambition, and determination,

_this house won't take just any kind._

So try me on!  
Don't be afraid—  
everyone gets a turn.  
But be warned ahead of time—  
there's not a thought I can't discern.

The hat fell silent and the Great Hall filled with applause so loud it bounced off the walls. I joined in, smiling brightly. Seamus had never mentioned that the hat sang, too. It made her laugh joyously.

Although the last stanza was a bit disconcerting, I felt better about the whole Sorting process. The hat somehow made it easier to picture everyone fitting into one of the Houses.

The small old wizard stepped closer to the stool and pulled a roll of parchment from his robe. "When I call your name," he called out, attempting to project his small voice, "you will come forward and I will place the Sorting Hat on your head." Clearing his throat, he unrolled the parchment. After a moment, he shouted, "Aberly, Nicholas."

A boy with neat chestnut hair and a calm, thin face stepped forward. The hat was placed on his head, falling down over his ears. The Sorting Hat appeared contemplative for a moment before calling out, "SLYTHERIN!"

The table on the far left burst into applause; as Nicholas Aberly walked over to join his housemates, he bore a snotty look of pride.

"Andersen, Rosemary."

The girl with the honey hair stepped forward. As she sat on the stool, her face burned a bright red. She held onto the edges of the stool anxiously as the Hat considered and then shouted—

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Rosemary Andersen sighed in relief as she practically skipped to the very loud Hufflepuff table.

"Benson, Elizabeth."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Borne, Donald."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The far-right table screamed in wild cheers as Donald Borne stumbled, red-faced, to join them at their table.

"Brady, Robert."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Byrne, Bridey."

My breath caught in my chest and suddenly all my inhibitions had returned to me. I could see myself walking up there in my mind, but my body had locked itself in its place and I couldn't move.

"Byrne, Bridey," the old wizard repeated, scanning the line of first-years as if he would recognize me.

"That's you," Emma hissed in my ear, nudging me forward. I stumbled and almost fell, but caught myself at the last second. I heard a few people snicker and my ears turned a bright red.

I took my place on the stool, leaving my hands clenched in my lap. The Hat was placed on my head and slid over my eyes, but I didn't mind; it saved me from the humility of facing those people out there.

"Hm," said a voice in her mind; she hadn't been expecting it to talk to her, too. "Very clever, I see. And determined. Witty, too. Patient, hard-working…Ah, I see a thirst for knowledge. There is no longer anything to consider. Yours is the quickest I saw—RAVENCLAW!"

My heart gave a wild leap in my chest. I slipped the hat off of my head to the sound of loud cheers, as the others before me had gotten, but there was some other underlying sound. A sound quite similar to…boos.

I looked over at the Gryffindor table, where Seamus—that lout—was standing up, openly booing. My face turned hot with anger and I would have lashed out at him had some professor not called him out on it first. So, instead, I settled for glaring sharply at him as I swept towards the Ravenclaw table.

"That was Seamus Finnigan," a boy informed me in a low whisper as the Sorting continued. As if I didn't know who was booing me. Of course, this guy wouldn't know that we knew each other, so I let him continue. "Don't mind him. He's just jealous that he'd never be able to get into Ravenclaw."

I couldn't help laughing at that. How very true indeed…

"Half the stuff he touches, he blows up," the boy continued, laughing slightly himself.

"He blows stuff up?" I asked, incredulous. He had never mentioned that before, though that wasn't entirely surprising.

"Oh, yes. Singed his eyebrows off once, even."

"That's rich!" I exclaimed. Singed his eyebrows off! I couldn't believe it.

"I'm Terry, by the way. Terry Boot."

I shook his hand lightly. "Nice to meet you. I'm Bridey, but I guess you already knew that."

He smiled warmly. He had a nice smile that extended up to his light eyes. I smiled back at him, already quite taken with him, and turned my attention back to the sorting, just in time to hear the dark-haired boy from my boat be called up.

"Giordano, Stephen."

He half-ran up to the stool and confidently sat down upon it. The hat barely brushed his curly hair before calling out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Stephen Giordano walked off to the cheering Gryffindors with a boastful smile on his tan face. I smiled, pleased with myself for the accurate prediction I had made about the boy.

The Sorting went on with a surprising lack of Ravenclaws. After me, there was only one other—a boy named Rudy King—for a very long time, and my table was becoming impatient.

"Spaulding, Prunella" was put in Slytherin. "Squires, Daniel" was sorted into Hufflepuff. "Teague, Cadence" was a Gryffindor. There were only twelve people left up there at this point. The light haired boy from my boat was one of them.

"Eight of them have to be ours," Terry Boot said, leaning towards me. "There's ten first years to a house; we only have two."

I hoped he was right. It would be a bit awkward if it were just me and Rudy King.

"Tooley, Emma."

My head shot towards the front of the room to watch. Emma straightened her shoulders and walked carefully to the front of the room. She sat uncomfortably on the low stool, her long legs bent abnormally high. The hat sat on top of her head, leaving her free to look out at her audience; she squeezed her eyes shut.

I waited with baited breath for what felt like an eternity. I hadn't been able to even guess where Emma would end up, and the Sorting Hat seemed unsure as well. Finally thought, I saw the rip in the brim tear open and he screamed—

"RAVENCLAW!"

Emma's eyes shot open. She got to her feet as if in a trance and then stumbled towards me, looking utterly bewildered. I grinned widely at her as I made more room for her to sit down.

"I'm in Ravenclaw?" she whispered. "I never thought…Especially since it took so long…I thought for sure…" She drifted off, shaking her head. I pat her on the back and turned back towards the Sorting, where a girl "Ulmer, Azura" was at the stool.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The whole table burst into another round of applause as Terry leaned towards me and shouted into my ear, "That's four!! Just six more!"

"Valentine, Edward" joined the Ravenclaw table along with "Vesey, Derek." The chain was broken then as "Vincent, Maretta" went off to Gryffindor and "Wayne, Eamon," was sent to Slytherin.

"Weathers, Harmon."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Weems, Ivory."

"RAVENCLAW!"

We were all going hoarse from cheering so much. We had been so quiet for most of the sorting that we were going wild each time a new person joined our house.

"Just two more," Terry reminded me; four people remained to be sorted—the light-haired boy from the boat was _still _there.

"We know the girl is ours," Terry continued. "It's just a matter of which boy."

A thickset boy who looked much older than eleven named "Wixon, Demetrius," joined the Slytherins. Then, as suspected, the girl, "Yancy, Willow," was a Ravenclaw.

"I think the blonde is a Hufflepuff," I whispered to Terry.

"Can't be," he replied after a pause. "They've already got their fill of students."

I looked back up at the two boys standing there in wonder. One was a Ravenclaw, and I didn't have a guess which it would be.

"Young, Jason."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

I clapped lightly as he joined the other Gryffindors at their table, but my mind was elsewhere. I was usually a good judge of character, so I was surprised that I would be wrong about this one.

"Ziegler, Feliks."

"RAVENCLAW!"

The light boy confidently joined our table. As he passed, Terry clapped him on the back. I stared after him in mild astonishment. Of course, I didn't know him, so I really was no judge of his intelligence. Mostly, I was just shocked with myself. I had been so sure…

The double doors opened gently and three people entered the Great Hall. One—a stern-faced woman with a tight black bun—headed for the staff table at the front of the hall as the other two joined the Gryffindor table.

The Headmaster got to his feet to speak and the hall fell silent. Albus Dumbledore was an old wizard, though he was by no means feeble. He was tall with a long white beard and long white hair. His long nose was crooked, as if it had once been broken, and behind his half-moon spectacles were sparkling blue eyes. There was something about him which commanded respect—respect he definitely had earned. Order of Merlin, First class; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Grand Sorcerer; Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. Albus Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of the age.

"Welcome!" greeted Dumbledore, his voice soft. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent speech…" The old man cleared his throat before continuing, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

So that was what they were—dementors. I shivered at the very mention of them.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises—or even Invisibility Cloaks." I could have been imagining it, but at this point it seemed he was speaking quite plainly to one person. I tried to follow his gaze, but before I could, he returned to addressing the school as a whole. "It is not of the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and to our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors." Dumbledore took a pause to look around the hall seriously; nobody dared make a sound. I barely dared to breathe.

"On a happier note," the Headmaster said, his tone lightening, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year.

"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." A shabbily dressed wizard stood and smiled around the hall. The students all clapped, though none, save a few Gryffindors, enthusiastically.

"As to our second appointment," the Headmaster began again as Professor Lupin's applause dissipated, "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that this place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

The giant man who had led us to the boats looked down at his hands in embarrassment, his face burning a bright red, as a grin spread across his face. The applause, especially from the Gryffindor table, was enormous, especially in comparison to the other man's.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance. Let the feast begin!"

The Headmaster clapped his hands and the golden dishes and goblets filled with food and drink right before our eyes. I stared in amazement at the feast before me. I didn't even know where to start. Suddenly, my stomach was growling; I hadn't even known I was hungry, but now I was starving, drooling over the food.

Terry smiled as he watched Emma and me ogling the food. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

* * *

When the feast ended, my fellow first years and I were told to follow our prefects to our common rooms. We had almost made it to the door when I saw Seamus tearing through the crowd towards us.

"Look away; look away," I whispered to Emma, staring determinedly ahead of me.

"Isn't that the guy that booed you?" Emma asked. She glanced quickly towards him and then back at the person standing in front of her.

"Yeah. That's my neighbor—Seamus. Sh! Sh! He's close."

I held my head high, shoulders back, and pointedly looked away from him.

"Bridey! Bridey—come on!" he shouted, shoving his way through the Gryffindor first years; I wouldn't look at him.

"Bridey! Come on, it was just a bit of fun."

"Well, it wasn't very funny, was it?" I said bitingly. I finally gave in to looking at him. He didn't even look apologetic; there was a grin on his freckled face.

"I thought it was."

"Yes, well you always did have an odd sense of humor."

The line of Ravenclaws finally started to move; Seamus fell into step alongside me.

"Bride, come on!" He moved in front of my line of vision and thrust his lower lip out; his eyes had their usual glint in them—a glint, I'd found, was only ever found in his eyes.

"Just wait until your mom hears about this," I said, turning away from him again. Mrs. Finnigan had told me to let her know if Seamus ever did anything to bother me, and, if he kept up like this, I intended to take her up on her offer.

Seamus's rosy cheeks paled. "Aw, Bridey, you wouldn't do that to your ol' pal, would ya?"

"I'm considering it."

"You thought it was funny, didn't you?" he asked, turning towards Emma, eyebrow raised.

Emma's face turned red. "I-er-well, it was sort of mean-but, yeah. I mean—no. Er…" She turned away and pretended to be very interested in the floor.

"Ravenclaw first years, this way!" the Ravenclaw prefect called out. The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors had been walking together up to this point, but now, as they turned left, we were going right.

"I hope you get a detention for that!" I said to Seamus, hovering by the turn.

"I probably will. Would that make you feel better?"

"Maybe a little," I said truthfully. A smile started to twitch at my mouth, but I suppressed it—but not before Seamus noticed. His face broke out into a grin.

"I might even lose some House Points."

"Oh, that would be nice…"

"You think about it, little Bride."

"Think about what?"

"My apology, o' course!"

"You never apologized!"

He smiled cheekily and brushed his sandy hair from his face. "Bye, Bridey."

"Seamus!"

But he was already sprinting away to rejoin his fellow Gryffindors. I turned back towards Emma, who was waiting patiently for me, and let out an agitated breath of air.

"He's so frustrating!" I exclaimed, storming after the other first years—they had made it a surprising distance during my little pause. And the prefect wasn't very good at his duties, either, if he couldn't make sure we all stayed with him.

"I don't know, I think he's funny," Emma replied timidly.

"No, he isn't. He's just annoying." I paused as a shiver ran down my spine. "Oh, he skeeves me! I can't believe I ever—"

"You ever what?" Emma prodded curiously.

"Oh, never mind. It was a long time ago…"

"Oh, you used to rate him, didn't you?"

"What? Of course not," I crossly replied, though I could feel the tips of my ears starting to turn hot. "Did you see him? He's like a…a monkey! Of course I didn't."

"Oh, I thought he was rather cute," Emma said, a smile drifting across her face.

I couldn't even think of a response to this other than rolling my eyes.

We had caught up with the other first years by then and were climbing up our fifth staircase or so. By this point I was bloated, sore, and peeved from my encounter with Seamus, so I didn't even find time to truly appreciate the graceful spiral of the staircase.

"Okay, we're here," the prefect announced. He stood before a plain door with an eagle-shaped knocker. He placed his hand beside the knocker and turned towards us. "In order to get in, you have to answer a riddle given by this knocker."

"What if you don't know the answer?" someone asked.

"Well, then you have to wait for somebody who does know it," the prefect answered. "That way you still learn." He then turned towards the door.

The bronze knocker then spoke. "The maker doesn't want it, the buyer doesn't use it and the user doesn't see it. What is it?"

The prefect stood silent for a minute, presumably in thought. Then, with confidence, he answered, "A coffin."

The door swung open, and the prefect led us inside to a large, circular room. The floors were covered in midnight blue carpet, and the ceiling was painted to resemble the night sky. Blue and bronze silks hung on the walls. Arched windows faced out onto the grounds, though I couldn't tell what the view was like. By the fireplace were blue sofas which appeared both comfortable and elegant at the same time. Small tables and chairs were set about the room for people to work on, and book cases covered several walls.

"Welcome to the Ravenclaw common room," the prefect announced. "Girls' dormitories are upstairs to the left; boys, yours are on the right."

Emma and I immediately headed for the left staircase, but we stopped as we approached. Between the two stairways was a marble bust which demanded our attention.

"Rowena Ravenclaw," I said after a moment.

"She's pretty," Emma added.

We stood, observing her for a few minutes, before hurrying up the spiral staircase, where we found ourselves in a small circular room with seven doors. On each door hung a sign.

"Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh, First! There we are!" Emma exclaimed, grabbing my arm and leading me to the second-to-last door on the right.

Inside were five four-post beds hung with midnight-blue silk curtains and with bronze knobs at each post. The other three girls were already sitting on their beds.

I looked around at them, trying to remember the names that went with their faces. The one by the window, directly across from where Emma and I were standing was Azura Ulmer; beside her on her right was Ivory Weems. Then, last, there was Willow Yates.

"Hello," I amiably greeted, moving towards the bed on my direct right. "How are you all?"

"I'm well," one of them replied; she had a very sharp tone, though not unfriendly. It was just…demanding. I looked over to see who it was speaking and found Azura looking directly at me, her head cocked to the side.

"You are the one who got booed, yes?"

So it was Azura speaking. It looked like it should have been her. She had a very…commanding presence. She had long, shiny black hair and skin the color of a latte. Her eyes, which were digging into mine, were a very profound gray.

Sighing, I nodded. "Yes, that was me."

"Why'd that guy do that?" Willow piped up.

"Oh, just to be a prat," I replied. "It was my neighbor; I've known him since I was born. He's just like that." Pausing, I added, "He likes to tease me."

"Well, it was very rude of him," Ivory commented; the other two nodded firmly in agreement; I smiled at them all, but said nothing more.

My dorm mates all went about their business, getting themselves ready for bed, but I just sat there in wonder, staring around at the stone walls. Suddenly, it had hit me.

I was at Hogwarts.

After all my years of waiting, I was finally here. And so far, it was everything I had expected it to be and more. It was filled with history, magic, and wonder. I could probably spend my entire life here and never grow used to the spectacular-ness of it all.

As I sat thinking about it, I grew antsy for my classes. I had been reading about and living with magic my whole life, but I had never actually performed it—not anything real, in any case—nothing substantial. Now I would finally get to experience it for myself—I would get to feel the thrill of casting a spell and the fulfillment of accurately (I hoped) making a potion.

Eager now for the new day, I skipped to the front of my bed and opened up my trunk, only then realizing for the first time that it was already there. Grinning to myself at this wonderful servant, I pulled out a fresh pair of pajamas. I hid myself in the curtains of my bed and quickly changed out of my uniform and into my dressing gown. Carefully folding up my robes and uniform, I placed them on top of my trunk lid, along with the new blue and bronze ties sitting on my bed.

Practically diving under the covers of my bed, I chirped, "Goodnight everyone!"

"Night," the four chorused back.

I couldn't help smiling as I pulled my curtains closed around my bed. I lay there in the quiet, just listening to the sounds of the night around me, and slowly, I drifted off to sleep. I was at Hogwarts, and everything was right with the world.

* * *

a/n Okay, so that whole part where Dumbledore is speaking is taken directly from the book and so I take absolutely NO CREDIT FOR IT WHATSOEVER!

Now, with that out of the way, I hope you enjoyed this chapter :) I am, personally, pretty pleased with it myself and I hope that everyone else agrees. Oh, and I wrote the song myself. I don't think it is as good as the Sorting Hat's usual songs, but I think it is alright, especially for having written most of it right before falling asleep one day.

Reviews are always appreciated :)

xoxox

Oh, and thank you to my reviewers, Christine and Shay'sTheOne :) I really appreciate both of you reviewing, and thank you :)


	4. Chapter Three

_**Chapter Three **_‡Halloween

* * *

Halloween arrived alarmingly fast that year. In the excitement of attending Hogwarts, I had barely noticed the weeks go by and quickly fell into the routine of classes. Without my even realizing it, I found myself part of a group for the first time in my life.

I hadn't seen it coming. After all, I had never had a close-knit group of friends before. Where I lived, there were very few people to associate with. I had a few friends, naturally, but I never saw them much, and I certainly didn't go out of my way to talk to them. I was perfectly content sitting at home reading.

Here, though, was a different story. I was swept into the social whirlwind of boarding school and found myself constantly in the company of others like me. Emma Tooley quickly became my best friend. The two of us went everywhere together, and I was very happy to have her to confide in.

Azura, Ivory, and Willow also befriended us very quickly, and the five of us soon were inseparable. I soon lost all my fear of starting a new school and found myself very comfortable with my surroundings. Seamus had gotten me all worried that I would like no one and I would constantly be picked on by the older students and by the Slytherins, but so far, the teasing had been very minimal and had mostly come from Seamus himself.

What surprised me most, though, was that I had retained my friendship with Sandra Abrams. Although I had found her pleasant enough on the train, she had intimidated me. I had also thought it would be impossible for me to be friends with a Slytherin—after all, they are such an unpleasant lot. However, Emma, Sandra, and I spoke every morning. And, although I was not as close to her as I was with my Ravenclaw friends, I was pleased to have her as a friend. Something told me that she was happy to have us as well; after all, by the looks of it, she didn't have many.

I woke early Halloween morning, as I did most mornings. My body didn't know the difference between the weekdays and the weekends, and so, consequently, I woke the same time every day. My four dorm mates, on the other hand, all slept soundly. As usual, Willow's snores, louder than those of a grown man, filled the room. Beside her, Ivory, the lightest sleeper of the group, struggled to remain asleep.

I observed them, chuckling quietly to myself. This was a scene I had grown used to watching every Saturday morning for the past eight weeks. Undoubtedly, the serenity would soon be broken when Ivory, losing her patience, would shoot up and beat Willow with a pillow until she, too, was awake.

For once, though, I didn't feel like sitting around to watch. Outside, the sun was already glittering in a clear blue sky. Maybe it was my country upbringing, but I couldn't stand to just sit around in bed on a morning like that.

As quietly as I could, I slipped out of bed and made up my sheets. I had already laid out my clothes for the day on the top of my trunk, so all I had to do was get changed. I hated the drudgery of choosing clothes to wear, which was why I got it out of the way at night. That way, there was one less thing to worry about in the morning.

For Halloween, I had decided that my over-sized purple knit sweater would be most appropriate, pairing it with my black leggings and my bed slippers. Considering I would be spending all my time at the castle, footwear was not a big prerogative of mine; I was much more interested in clothing, though even that took a backseat while at Hogwarts. I was, after all, just a first year. I wasn't going anywhere, and I had no one to impress.

I ran a brush through my hair a few times before deftly turning it into an over-the-shoulder plait. Satisfied, I placed my brush back onto my nightstand and proceeded down the spiral staircase to the Common Room.

I was a little surprised at the amount of people already down there. It was by no means a great amount, but it was more than I had expected—about a dozen or so. Some extremely diligent students sat at the tables, poring over their homework with great intensity. Others lazed about, entertaining themselves with Wizard's Chess, a good book, or some light conversation.

Walking over to the fireplace, I found two of my fellow first years, Feliks Ziegler and Harmon Weathers, conversing in hushed tones. I silently approached them and plopped down into one of the arm chairs.

Harmon, a jumpy kid with neat ash-brown hair, a chalky complexion, and square glasses, gave a start, nearly falling off of the sofa. Catching himself just in time, though, he blinked rapidly at me. "When did you get here?" he demanded.

Doing my best to restrain my laughter, I replied, "Just now. The fire looked very inviting. I hope I'm not disturbing anything."

"No, you aren't," Feliks said pleasantly. He appeared almost relieved by my arrival and happily turned towards me. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Well," I began with a sigh, "my mind understands the concept of sleeping in perfectly. My body, on the other hand, cannot tell the difference between a Friday morning and a Saturday morning. It's sad, really."

"Mine's the same way," Feliks said. "Well, it's either that or I can't sleep through Rudy's incessant snoring."

I laughed appreciatively, causing his smile to brighten.

"Would you like to play a game of Wizard's Chess?" he suggested. "I have a set up in my trunk."

"No, thank you. I was actually thinking of going down to get some breakfast." I rose from my seat and was about to head for the door when I paused. "Would you like to come?"

"Sure."

"What about Harmon?" I asked. If I was going to invite one of them, I might as well invite the other. I was already putting myself in a potentially awkward situation—adding another person into the mix couldn't do any harm.

"What about me?" Harmon asked, looking up from the book he had presumably been reading, though I suspected he had just been using it as a disguise to eavesdrop on my very brief conversation with Feliks.

"Have you eaten yet?" I asked, doing my best to be polite. Harmon was nice enough, but he was a bit of a know-it-all and tended to get on my nerves with any amount of prolonged exposure.

"No."

"Would you like to come eat with us?"

Harmon hesitated, his eyes darting back and forth between Feliks and me. I waited silently for his answer, though my patience was wearing thin. My stomach was starting to eat through its own lining; if he didn't answer soon I was going to leave without him, to hell with manners.

"Okay," he said at last, putting his book aside.

As I walked down to the Great Hall with the two of them, I started to feel uncomfortable. It wasn't that I was afraid of boys, really, I just didn't know how to act around them. I wasn't used to it. The only boy who had played any role in my life, besides my father, was Seamus, and I certainly wasn't going to use my relationship with him as a model for how to act around other boys.

The Great Hall had a surprising amount of older students filling its tables. As Feliks, Harmon, and I made our way down the Ravenclaw table, I spotted Terry Boot sitting with his friends Anthony Goldstein and Michael Corner; I stopped.

"Hey," I said shyly.

Terry looked up from his conversation and smiled at me. "Hi, Bridey." Then, undoubtedly seeing the look of discomfort on my face, he said, "What's wrong?"

"Oh! Nothing!" I squeaked, my face burning an even darker shade of red. "I was just wondering…if maybe you knew…um…Why so many people are up?" I hadn't intended on asking it, but I needed some excuse as to why I was talking to him.

"There's a Hogsmeade trip today," he replied. "Third years and up get to go. I guess people are trying to get an early breakfast so they can head out as soon as possible. That's what we're doing anyway," he said, gesturing to his friends and himself.

"Oh, okay. Well, have fun."

"Thanks." He smiled at me again and turned back to his friends.

I turned stiffly towards Feliks and Harmon, who had already found seats further down the table, and went to go join them.

"You okay there?" Feliks asked, scooting over to make room for me on the bench.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" I refused to look at either of them until the color of my face returned to normal and so found myself staring directly at my plate as I scooped unknown foods onto it.

Harmon laughed in response. He had an unpleasant laugh. It reminded me of a pig eating out of its trough.

"Are you sure?" Feliks asked unsurely. I glanced up at him; his light eyes of an undetermined color were bright as he stared at me. The corners of his lips were tugged down into a thoughtful frown.

"Of course," I said, a smile flickering onto my face; I was touched by the sincerity of his concern.

After that, I fell into a comfortable companionship with him.

Perhaps this would be easier than I had originally thought.

* * *

When I returned to the Common Room a while later, after wandering around outside by the lake with Feliks, Harmon having decided he would much rather read than spend time with us, I found Emma, Azura, Willow, and Ivory had taken over the prime fireplace seats.

"Happy Halloween!" I chirped, falling into a seat beside Willow.

Willow turned towards me, her mouth full of…something…and held out a bag. "Every flavor bean?" she offered.

I tried to ignore the fact that I could see the grayish blob in her mouth and instead focused on the bag in front of me. I loved Bertie Botts, probably because I had a knack for picking the best ones. I stuck my hand right into the back, coming out with a small handful of colorful beans. Willow moved as if to withdraw the bag, but I shook my head.

"Wait," I demanded. I began to sort through my collection, throwing the bad ones back into the bag. Once I was satisfied that I had weeded out all the bad ones, I decided on a light brown bean and tossed it into my mouth. Mmmm, toffee.

"You can't do that!" Willow protested, staring at me with wild eyes.

In response, I tossed another one into my mouth. Cherry.

"That's just cheating," Azura added.

"Yeah, what's the fun in that?" Ivory said, frowning at me.

"I don't know, guys. I think she has the right idea," Emma said, eyeing the beans in her hand warily. She came from a Muggle family and had never been subjected to the torturous flavors of Bertie Botts before, so it was expected that she would agree with my method.

"No, no!" Willow insisted. She dropped another handful of beans into my hand and closed the bag so I couldn't put any back. "Now we are going to have a contest over who can find the foulest bean. And by find," at this she whipped her head back towards me, her amber eyes flashing, "I mean taste, not find and throw away."

"Fine, fine," I grumbled.

"We're going by the honor system."

"Alright," the rest of us agreed.

I began to pick through the beans for ones I knew were bad. The greenish gray one was either bogey or troll; I'd have to keep that in mind. There was a pink one that I knew for sure tasted like medicine, but that wasn't _nearly _bad enough. Another one looked like it might be rancid milk; I guessed that the murky yellow one was warm, dirty dishwater.

Then I found it—the ultimate winner, so foul and horrid that there was no possible way that I could lose. Just looking at the awful color—a yellowish, greenish brown—I started to gag. This was certainly the winner. I slowly started to bring it towards my mouth but stopped just before it touched my lips.

"What's the prize?" I wondered.

"Why does there need to be a prize? Why can't it just be for fun?" Willow argued, sounding slightly offended that I had even asked. She had a very short temper I had noticed; how fitting that she had untamable red hair.

"Well, I want some sort of consolation for putting this dreadful piece of candy in my mouth. Otherwise, it just isn't worth it."

The other girls started to look wary as well, each staring at the bean in their hand with a sickened expression.

"Okay, fine, fine," Willow sighed. "I guess the prize will be…" She paused, looking about the room as if she would find something suitable there. "I'll do your homework."

"For how long?" Ivory asked, just as Azura said, "Why would I want you to do mine?"

I certainly understood where Azura was coming from on that one. While quite bright and exceedingly clever, Willow was not the most conscientious student, often just scribbling enough to get her by. Mostly she just got 'acceptable,' though I had seen her get an 'excellent' once before. These were all well enough, but Azura and myself were used to getting 'E's and 'O's; having Willow do our work would be a downgrade. However, I was not about the say that.

"How about something else?" I suggested. I didn't want to hurt Willow's feelings by telling her I would rather she didn't do my homework when I won. Besides, I didn't approve of cheating.

"Like what?"

"Oh! I know!" Emma exclaimed. "The person with the…worst bad flavor…owes the person with the best bad flavor a gift of their choosing. It's simple but rewarding." She smiled around the rest of us in search for approval.

"I like her idea," Azura and Ivory said in unison.

"Yeah, me, too," Willow agreed. "This way I'm not stuck doing extra homework, and I may even not have to buy anything."

"Sounds good to me," I said absently, trying to think what I would have the loser get me.

"Is everyone ready? On three. One…two…three!"

All at once, the five of us popped our horrible every flavor bean into our mouth. As the others cough and spluttered, I was outright gagging. I tried to swallow it, but my gag reflex wouldn't let me and it ended up on the floor. My insides were churning and my eyes were burning.

"What did everyone get?" Willow coughed. "I got bogey."

"Earwax," Ivory said, shuddering.

"Vomit," Azura gagged; her eyes were watering, too. She would be a tough competitor, but I still believed that I had it in the bag.

"I'm not sure what mine was," Emma said with a frown. "It was unexpected, but I don't think it was too terrible."

"Well what color was it?" I asked.

"Sort of a murky yellow…a little greenish, maybe. I'm not too sure."

I thought for a moment before saying, "That's warm, dirty dishwater, I believe."

"Oh. Yes, I suppose that is about right…" She frowned again. "What was yours?"

I glanced down at the chewed-up bean sitting on the floor. "It's too disgusting to say."

"Does that mean you forfeit?" Azura asked a little gleefully, knowing that, with the options so far displayed, she won.

"Of course not!" I exclaimed; I was no quitter.

"Well then what is it?" Willow demanded, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

I took a deep breath; a shudder went down my spine. "I had poo."

The four of them kept silent for a moment, all staring at me in disbelief. It was Ivory, though, who finally broke the silence.

"Poo?"

"Yes, poo. You know…number two…"

Ivory blinked her bright green eyes at me before turning back towards the others, thrusting her finger in my direction. "I think she wins."

"Definitely," Emma agreed looking disgustedly at the floor where my bean lay.

"I don't know; vomit and poo are both pretty bad."

"But vomit is something which comes out the mouth; you're expected to taste that. Poo is just…infinitely worse," Ivory reasoned, quickly followed by a shudder and a gag.

"Well, let's take a vote," Willow suggested. "All in favor of poo?" Ivory, Emma, and I all raised our hands. "Okay, three. Vomit?" Only Azura raised her hand. "I think they're equal. Not that my vote would have done anything anyway, so I guess…"

"Wait!" Azura interrupted. "What if we asked the boys?"

"They would be impartial…" Willow paused in consideration. "Okay! Feliks! Harmon! Rudy! Edward! Derek!" The five boys all looked up at once, each bearing looks of confusion. "Vomit or poo?"

Derek Vesey, quite possibly the cutest boy I had ever seen with shaggy black hair, high cheekbones, perfect teeth, and almond-shaped, light brown eyes, was the first to react. "Excuse me?" he coughed.

"Which would be worse to taste?" Ivory elaborated.

All Derek could do was blink in response, eventually turning away.

"What do you girls _talk_ about?" Edward Valentine asked in great distaste.

"Whatever it is, I think these are my kind of girls!" Rudy King exclaimed, a large grin spreading across his face. He got up from his seat and wandered over towards us, claiming the empty seat beside Ivory. Ivory blushed and ducked her face behind a curtain of platinum blonde hair.

I raised my eyebrows seeing this, a little intrigued. I never would have pictured Ivory Weems having a crush on Rudy King. Not that he wasn't a likeable guy—he was very likable. It was just that there was a very noticeable contrast in the two, least of which was their appearance. Ivory was a slight girl with pale skin, long, straight, light hair, and large blue eyes. Rudy, on the other hand, was a big guy—tall and thickset. He was dark skinned with curly black hair and dark eyes. It was their personalities, though, that really stood out to me.

Ivory was a quiet girl. Out of all of us, it had taken her the longest to open up. Even with friends, she didn't always feel comfortable discussing things. She was funny, but it was more in the way that she said things rather than what she said.

Rudy was loud. He was opinionated and had no problems sharing his feelings with you. He could sit down beside a total stranger and just start talking about nothing in particular. And the things that went through his mind—the things he said—were just so ridiculous it was hard _not _to laugh when he was around. He was a funny guy.

Besides, according to Feliks, Rudy was a snorer. And Ivory wasn't very fond of snoring.

"How did this conversation even come up?" Feliks asked, trying not to laugh. Beside him, Harmon was looking at us all with great dislike, as if he found us vulgar human beings.

"We'll answer your questions later. Just, please—answer ours first," Willow said a bit impatiently.

"Please?" Azura added, smiling charmingly at them.

Apparently, that was all it took to get them over to us.

Azura smiled contentedly to herself, flipping her shining black hair over her shoulder—another mission accomplished.

"What was the question again?" Harmon asked, his beady little eyes firmly fixed on Azura.

"Which would taste worse—vomit, or poo?" Willow repeated.

"Poo? Like number two?" Feliks said, still attempting not to laugh.

I gently swatted at his arm. "This is a _very_ serious matter."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Well, now you do."

"Vomit," Harmon said; he was still staring at Azura, though she was quite plainly ignoring him.

"What, would you like to taste poo and see what that's like? Poo, most definitely," Rudy said, rolling his eyes at his dorm mate.

"Poo," Edward agreed.

"I can't answer this," Derek said. "I'm sorry, I just—" A shiver was sent down his spine. "No."

I stared expectantly at Feliks, the only one left to answer. He was staring into the fire, his lips pressed firmly against each other as he constrained a laugh. His nostrils were flaring viciously in his attempt to hold it in.

"Well? Which is it? We don't have all day!" Willow exclaimed.

"What else do we have to do?" Emma asked. "Homework and the feast—that's all. It's not like we're third years and can go off to Hogsmeade. Let him think."

"It's such a tough choice," Feliks croaked, his eyes briefly flickering towards me. I wished that I could look at them long enough to figure out what color they were. They were so captivating and so unusual a color, but he never held eye-contact with me for long enough for me to determine exactly what that unusual color was.

"Vomit and poo…those are both pretty foul," he continued, nodding sagely to himself. He crossed his arms over his chest only to uncross them again. "I wish I had longer to mull over this. This is a question which would stump the most scientific of minds…"

His sarcasm was amusing me—and Emma, too, by the looks of it—but Willow was starting to appear a bit cross. I wished he'd wrap it up. I had yet to see her blow a gasket, but I didn't think it would be a pretty sight.

"But, since I have to decide right now," Feliks said slowly, drawing a deep breath, "I'm going to have to go with number two. I mean, it just doesn't belong in your mouth! At least vomit exits that way. Poo should never be anywhere near there!" He paused a moment before adding, "Unless you're a buttface."

I, along with a few others, snorted at his corny joke, but Harmon clearly didn't appreciate it. He crinkled his nose—which I supposed he did to show how displeased he was, but it just made him look constipated—and pushed his glasses closer to his eyes. Feliks ignored him.

"Well, that's two for 'vomit,' two for impartial, and—" Willow quietly recounted those who had voted for 'poo' "—six for 'poo!' Poo wins by a landslide!" she exclaimed. "Bridey, you're the lucky winner. Now, we all agree that the dishwater is the loser, or do we have to take another vote?"

"Before you do that," Derek interjected, appearing both perplexed and disdainful, "could you please explain what is going on?"

"We had a contest," Emma explained, "about who could find the foulest Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean. The two top contenders were vomit—Azura—and poo—Bridey. Since Bridey won, she wins a consolation prize from the loser. Which, by the sounds of it, is me."

"Oh," Derek and Edward said in unison.

"That's…special," Feliks commented, his mouth twisted into a wry smile.

"Aw, man! That sounds fun; why wasn't I over here for that? Sounds much better than what we were doing," Rudy pouted as he crossed his arms discontentedly over his face.

"It's okay," Ivory sat, awkwardly patting his arm. "You wouldn't have won anyway."

"You don't know that!"

"Well…can you think of anything worse than poo?"

"No," Rudy scowled. "But still…it would have been fun."

"Another time."

"I don't think I want to do that again," I said. "I'm fine with just eating them my way."

"What's your way?" Edward asked curiously.

"She picks through them and tosses the bad looking ones back, only eating the ones she thinks are good," Willow answered; she looked back over at me and shook her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

"You mean _know_ are good," I corrected. "I know my beans. I can tell the difference between good and bad."

"That's impressive," Rudy admitted. "I am a connoisseur of beans, and I can't even do that."

"That just ruins the fun, though!" Feliks exclaimed; he looked shocked that I would do such a thing. I shrugged my shoulders.

"I think it's sensible," Derek countered, flashing me his brilliant smile; I smiled back.

It was nice that I wasn't attracted to him. I could appreciate his beauty without becoming flustered by it.

Why wasn't I attracted to him? He was nice, smart, and cute…There was really nothing wrong with him. But, for me, there was nothing there.

"I think it's boring," Feliks said. "Bridey, I didn't take you to be boring."

"I'm not boring!" I shouted, outraged that he would say such a thing. "Just because I don't like to purposefully torture myself by beans which I know are horrid, that does not mean I am boring!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

I glared at him. "I'm not boring."

Feliks raised his eyebrows at me. "Prove it."

* * *

"I can't believe I'm going to do this."

"You don't have to," Emma said. She sounded nervous. "I don't think you're boring, Bridey. You don't have to prove anything."

"I sort of do now. If I back out of this, I'm not only going to be boring, but I'm going to be a chicken. I'll be a boring chicken! There's nothing worse than a boring chicken, Emma. Except maybe Harmon." I cast him a look of dislike. That morning, I had been able to tolerate him, but after the looks he had given me and my friends, I couldn't even manage that.

Emma giggled at that, her eyes also flickering toward our chubby classmate.

"We'll all still like you if you back out. I mean, sure, maybe the guys will taunt you for a while…and Willow might, too…but they'll get over it."

Emma was the only person I had told, besides Seamus, of my fear of flying and the height that came with it. That was probably the reason she was trying to hard to convince me not to do it.

I looked over my shoulder at the group of eight gathered in eager anticipation for my stunt and tried not to look too nervous.

I wasn't even sure how I had ended up in this situation. One second I was arguing that I wasn't boring, the next I was up on the Astronomy tower with a Cleansweep Feliks and Rudy had nicked from the broom closet and a crowd of my peers waiting to see me jump off and fly.

"I could get into so much trouble for this," I whispered, turning back to Emma with terror written all over my face.

"I know. This really isn't fair of them to ask this of you. He should have suggested something else. Like…like…" Emma trailed off, her face screwed up in concentration as she tried to think of some other exciting thing she could be doing. "I don't know! Something less likely to get you in trouble!"

"Too late now." I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders. "I have to do this before I chicken out. Help me up?"

Emma gave me a leg up onto the low stone wall. Holding onto her shoulder, I carefully stepped over the broom. My palms were sweaty as I gripped onto the handle. I could already feel my chest constricting in fear.

Before I could back out or lose my balance and fall, I kicked off.

"And she's off!" Rudy exclaimed.

I had never been any good at flying a broom, my fear always clouding my mind whenever anyone tried to teach me anything. Madam Hooch had deemed me a helpless cause and left me to polish handles as the others flew around. She had even ordered one of the toy brooms often given to small children just so I could get some airtime.

So, it was no surprise that I was immediately pulled into a nose dive, just narrowly avoiding one of the statues adorning the roof of Hogwarts castle.

"Pull up!" Emma—or at least I thought it was her; it was hard to tell with the wind rushing in my ears—shouted. Whoever it was, I decided to trust them and wrenched the handle up, saving myself from a nasty crash landing into a bush.

Except, now there was the problem that I was still in the air.

I assumed that Hogwarts grounds looked spectacular from an aerial view, but I had to admit that I wasn't paying much attention to that. My eyes were only still open because the wind wouldn't allow me to close them. I didn't dare look around me in case I lost my balance and fell.

Hogwarts had more trees than I realized. I quickly became quite friendly with them. I had never kissed on a first date before (not that I'd ever even been on a date), but a lot of leaves ended up in my mouth. I coughed and spluttered until they were gone, but the taste was still there.

Without my realizing it, the broom started to tilt forward again. The next thing I knew, the handle was skimming across the surface of the Black Lake and I was being sprayed with the ice-cold water.

Lovely.

I pulled up on the handle and was soon soaring through the sky again.

Was I going in circles?

How did I get off of this thing anyway?

I supposed I could just jump off and hope for the best.

Would the broom keep flying until it hit something, or would it stop when I got off?

I finally summoned the courage to look down, deciding it was time to find a safe place to land. When had I gotten to the Quidditch pitch? I had thought I was still by the castle.

_I guess this as good a place as I'll find_, I thought; I could feel my face contorting into a grimace.

Putting all the strength I could muster into my arms, I forced the broomstick down. As the ground drew closer and closer to my face, I closed my eyes so I wouldn't see it.

**_BAM!_**

The broom made impact with ground; I heard a sickening crack and hoped that that was just the broom breaking; I was in too much shock as I was hurdled from the handle, into the air, and sent into a heap on the ground, my face becoming a little too friendly with the earth for my liking, to know if I had broken anything or not.

"Ow," I groaned. Slowly, I started to pull myself back to my feet.

I was a little battered and bruised, but all of my bones seemed to be in fine working order. I rubbed my face and flinched; that last bit had hurt. I thought I was probably bleeding, but I was definitely bruised.

With a bit of a limp—my leg had bent in ways I didn't know possible with the landing—I walked back over to the broom.

Yup, it was broken.

Wonderful.

Collecting all of the pieces—thankfully, there were few—I started to limp off the empty pitch to return the broom to its closet. I should probably let someone know that it had broken, but that would have to wait.

Or not.

As I entered the broom closet, I realized I was not alone. Madam Hooch was in there. And, unless my eyes were deceiving me—and it was possible; I had hit my head quite hard—she had received the toy broom and was putting it into storage.

"Miss Byrne!" Madam Hooch barked. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh…you know…just returning this broom…"

Madam Hooch narrowed her hawk-like eyes. "What were you doing with it?"

"I thought I could use some practice," I said, trying to avoid eye-contact. "It didn't go too well…"

"You know you aren't allowed to fly without supervision," she barked, her yellow eyes flashing.

"No, sorry, I didn't. I never would have dreamed of it if I had known."

Madam Hooch sighed. "I'll let you off with a warning this time, and five points off from Ravenclaw for a first offence. You know better for next time, though."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'd be pleased to give you private lessons, if you wanted."

"Oh, thank you, ma'am," I said; I knew I wouldn't be taking her up on that offer.

It was then that she became aware of the broken broom in my hand. Once again, her sharp yellow eyes flashed. "What happened there?"

"Well, you see," I began awkwardly, "there was a bit of a problem with the landing."

"What sort of problem?"

"Well…" I fidgeted uncomfortable. "Is it a problem if it is a crash-landing?"

Madam Hooch sighed and shook her head. "Give it here," she demanded; I was more than happy to oblige. "_Reparo_." The broken piece flew back onto the handle; looking at it, I wouldn't have even known it was broken. "Lucky it wasn't too bad. Otherwise, you'd be paying for a new broom."

"Yes, lucky."

The flying instructor looked back up at me; another sigh escaped her. "Off to the Hospital Wing now, Miss Byrne. You're going to want to have that scraped looked to."

"Oh. Yes I suppose I should," I said, my hand instinctively flying to the scrape on my cheek. I turned on my heels and was almost out the door when she spoke again.

"And I'd like to see you for private lessons. It's very important to know how to fly."

So close.

* * *

"Bridey! Bloody _hell, _what happened to you?" Emma exclaimed, jumping to her feet as I approached them.

"Did you guys know that crash-landings aren't such a good thing?" I said as way of reply.

"You _crashed?_ Are you alright?" Willow asked. She sounded a bit surprised by my news; obviously, she hadn't paid much attention to my skill during flying lessons.

"Oh, I'm fine. Had a big scrape on my face, but Madam Pomfrey fixed that right up." I rubbed the spot on my cheek; the scrape was completely gone, but it still felt tender. There was probably a bruise under the skin.

"Did anyone see you flying?" Azura inquired; her meaning was clear—had I gotten in trouble?

"No, not that I know of. I suspect that I would have been hunted down by now if a teacher or someone had." I slumped into the arm chair which Feliks had moved out of for me. "However, Madam Hooch saw me as I was putting the broom back—the broom which I broke, by the way. I convinced her that I had just been practicing, since we all know I need it. She reprimanded me for going alone, but she only took five points, which isn't too bad. She fixed the broom since it apparently wasn't too bad. Then, as I was leaving, she told me she wanted to give you private lessons."

"Are you really that bad?" Harmon guffawed; I was liking him less and less. Not only was he a know-it-all now, but he was condescending and rude.

"Shut up, Harmon. You have no room to talk," Rudy countered; he was almost sneering at his dorm mate. It was nice to know I wasn't the only one who didn't like him.

Harmon's pale face flushed a light pink and he fell silent.

"Oh, Bridey. You have leaves in your hair," Azura sighed. She reached forward and gently began picking the leaves from my hair.

"Those bloody trees couldn't keep their hands off of me. They're so rude. Frenched me on the first meeting, they did."

Although _most_—obviously excluding Harmon; Derek and Edward's chuckles were so half-hearted they barely counted— of them laughed, I could tell that no one really understood what I meant. Azura, still picking bits of leaf from my wind-swept hair, cocked a questioning eyebrow, an amused smile on her face. Feliks just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"What?" Emma and Ivory simultaneously asked, their eyebrows drawn together.

"Seamus would have understood that," I sighed; even as I said it I was disappointed in myself for giving him any consideration.

"Well, for the sake of all those present who are _not _Seamus, please explain," Willow said. She sat back in her seat, watching me curiously, as if waiting for some great, elaborate story.

"Well, it's not as funny if you have to explain it," I grumbled. That, however, was not what my companions wanted to hear. They were waiting for me to describe what happened and then for me to link my joke to the actual happenings.

That was what I got for being in Ravenclaw.

Not that I disliked Ravenclaw; I loved Ravenclaw. It was just so hard to make an obscure joke sometimes.

"Well, as you probably figured, I made contact with a lot of trees. Nothing bad—I may have been scraped by a twig, but I didn't fly into any branches or anything. They just kept grabbing for me though. And the leaves got in my mouth when I flew through the foliage."

A chorus of "oh"s followed my explanation, but there was no more laughter.

"I told you it wouldn't be funny anymore."

* * *

The Halloween feast was something to behold. In place of floating candles were small, floating jack-o-lanterns, each face unique—like a snowflake, but much more grotesque. Each table was dressed with purple or orange cloth; orange and black streamers hung from the walls. Real live bats flew overhead, occasionally swooping down into the food, or, if you were particularly lucky—as I seemed to be—into the students. Repeatedly.

Along with turkey, fish, corn bread, cranberry sauce, apple sauce, and a great assortment of other autumn foods, pumpkins filled with treats otherwise only found at Honeydukes or the like were placed sporadically across the tables.

After a delicious dessert consisting of steamed cinnamon apple pudding, apple crumble, and the usual suspects, such as treacle tart, we were provided with entertainment. The Hogwarts ghosts—and there were a surprising amount of them—all flew into the room from all directions—the floor, the ceiling, the walls; one even flew out of someone's plate—and came together at the front of the room. They floated silently for a moment, seemingly aligning themselves, though, due to their transparency, it was difficult to tell. Once properly positioned, they all began to perform some sort of formation gliding. The Gryffindor ghost, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, better known as Nearly Headless Nick, reenacted a wonderful rendition of his botched beheading. Our ghost, The Gray Lady, did no such thing.

Feeling positively swollen and slightly sick, I hobbled back up to Ravenclaw Tower with the rest of my house. Exhausted and becoming crabby, I headed straight for the dormitory, though most of the rest of the house decided to gather in the Common Room for further celebrations.

Emma was the only one of my dorm mates to follow me up, though we did not take the private time to talk. I decided my time would best be spent working on a revision of my Charms essay on the hover charm _Wingardium Leviosa_; Emma quickly found herself absorbed in one of her muggle novels.

About ten minutes later, there was a loud rapping on the door. Before Emma or I had time to answer, the door was flung open and a seventh year with long curly hair stepped in, unsuccessfully hiding the panic on her face.

"Everyone's to go down to the Great Hall—_now. _Come along," she ordered, her voice harsh.

Penelope Clearwater, the Head Girl. Of course.

"What's going on?" Emma squeaked, her already large eyes widening.

"There isn't any time to explain. Hurry up!"

Exchanging brief looks, Emma and I jumped off our four-poster beds and scurried after Penelope. Emma clung onto my arm; her bony elbow had no trouble in finding its favorite spot in my ribs.

With all of Ravenclaw shoved together as it was, it would be quite a task to find the rest of our friends, so we decided against trying. Already concerned about why we were being herded to the Great Hall, I didn't think shoving through the crowd and being trampled was really wise.

Gryffindor was already there by the time we arrived, and the other two Houses were also funneling in. As soon as the last student was in, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick went around and closed all the doors to the hall. It seemed much more crowded when we weren't sitting down.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," Professor Dumbledore informed us. His voice was as level as ever, but there was something almost dark blemishing his normally light tone. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Head Girl in charge." He then turned his attention to a red haired, pompous-looking individual who was presumably the Head Boy and said something more to him.

Dumbledore stopped at the exit and turned back to us. "Oh,yes, you'll be needing…" He swished his wand and all of the tables flew to the sides of the hall. With a second flick, the floor was redecorated with hundreds of squishy purple sleeping bags.

"Sleep well."

The hall was immediately filled with chatter as Gryffindors explained to the other students what was going on. I paid no attention, though, since it was all just senseless babble buzzing in my ears.

"Bridey! _Bridey_! **_Bridey_**!"

My ears perked up at the sound of my name being repeatedly shouted across the hall. Momentarily, I felt relief, thinking our friends had found us. It was then that I noticed the accent attached to my name.

Seamus Finnigan was tearing across the hall towards me.

I grabbed onto Emma's elbow and turned her. "Let's find somewhere else to sleep," I suggested. "It's a bit crowded over here."

"Oh. Okay…"

With Emma tripped after me, I plowed through the tangles of students in search of a more secluded spot, hoping that Seamus would get lost in the crowd—as genius as he was with directions, he could never navigate people—and give up. I never even stopped to think that emptiness made us easier to find.

"Bridey!" he called out again; he sounded much too close for my liking. "Bridey Fenna Byrne! I know you can hear me, eejit."  
"Damnú air!" I muttered, coming to a halt. There was no point in running anymore if he already knew where I was.

"There yeh are, Bridey!" Seamus exclaimed. "Come to your senses now, eh?"

I scowled and turned slowly to face him.

"Cac! I know it's Halloween, Bridey, but I don't think the mask is necessary."

"Póg mo thóin," I spat, slapping him on the arm.

"That isn't something to say to someone who brought you gifts, is it?" Seamus grinned, the famous Irish glint finding its way to his eyes.

"I don't want your gifts."

"Oh, but I think you do. Can I have my bag, Dean?"

It was the first time that I noticed that Seamus's friend was with him. Ever since my first encounter with him on the train, I had seen him quite frequently at Seamus's side. I rarely had time to say anything, though, since I was usually arguing with Seamus when I saw him.

"Sorry," I murmured, barely glancing at him.

"It's alright," he said, smiling at me.

"Everyone in their sleeping bags!" the Head Boy shouted. "Lights off in ten minutes!"

"Looks like we're slumming it with the first years tonight, Dean," Seamus said, grinning impishly. He sat down on the nearest sleeping bag and motioned for me to take the one beside him.

"Cac," I muttered; there was nowhere left for me to go at this point.

"Sorry, Emma," I said as I begrudgingly sat down beside Seamus.

"It's alright," she replied. She sounded amused; I glanced over at her and she was attempting to constrain a smile.

I glared at her, but before I could say anything, Seamus grabbed my attention. "Look at what I got you!"

He placed a bag from Honeydukes between us and stuck his hand inside. "Here's a bag of Bertie Bott's—I made sure there are plenty of wretched ones inside, since I know how much you like to pick those out. Here's a few Sugar Quills—to satisfy your sweet tooth as you study! Oh, hold on—there's more." He dug through the bag a minute before procuring a handful of other goodies; I felt my sweet-tooth (though it was really more like sweet-mouth) begging for a taste of them all.

"Here's Pink Coconut Ice—I thought you might like that—and some Crystallized Pineapple—I reckon that's good, but I didn't try it. Some Exploding Bon-Bons—this is what you'd be if you were a candy, sweet one moment and explosive the next. There's some Chocoballs in here, too, and some Droobles Best Blowing Gum. Oh! And Chocolate Frogs, of course."

I stared at him, slightly bewildered. I never would have expected for him to think of me when he was out, especially not enough to get me so much stuff. As irritating as he was, I was touched by the gesture.

"Th-thank you," I stuttered.

"You're welcome," he replied, grinning broadly at me. Apparently done with me, he turned towards Dean and began talking animatedly with him. I turned towards Emma, stunned.

"That was sweet," she whispered, no longer able to hold back her smile. "And you're so mean to him!"

"I am not," I argued; she stared pointedly at me. "You don't even know what any of that meant!"

"Maybe that's so, but I could tell by your tone."

"Bridey—what happened to your face?" Seamus asked loudly, apparently done with his conversation with Dean. Although his question was a bit blunt, I was secretly thankful for the interruption; I didn't know what to say in response to Emma's accusations.

"I flew," I said simply.

Fortunately, that was enough of an answer for Seamus.

Unfortunately, it didn't cause any sort of sympathetic reaction.

Seamus burst out into laughter, shaking his head. "Now why would you do a thing like that?"

"To prove I'm not boring."

I didn't know why I said it—it was just more ammunition for ridicule.

"Well why don't you just go swimming out in the Black Lake while you're at it?"

"I did skim the water," I replied. "The giant squid could have grabbed me I was so close!"

"You _eejit_!" Seamus laughed, shaking his head. "What else happened to you on this ride of yours?"

"Well, I became very acquainted with some trees. Frenched me straight away, they did!"

"How rude! These British trees are so forward!" Seamus laughed.

Emma watched us with bemusement; Dean just looked confused.

"I told you he'd get it!" I exclaimed, turning towards Emma in excitement.

"Yes, you did."

"Of course I get it!" Seamus boomed. "Who doesn't get it?"

"I don't," Dean said flatly.

"Don't worry about it," Emma said. "No one else did, either. It isn't that funny."

"I'm hurt!" I cried.

"The lights are going out now!" Head Boy shouted, drowning out whatever Emma's response had been. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!"

All at once, the lights went out. I blindly crawled into the sleeping bag, but I knew I wouldn't be going to sleep anytime soon. After a moment of listening to the gentle humming created by the continued whispers of the students, I turned towards Emma, but she was already fast asleep.

Oh, to be blessed with such an ability. I envied her.

I lay in silence, listening as Seamus and Dean twittered on about nonsense like a bunch of girls. At one point, Dean's voice faded, but Seamus didn't seem to notice, because he kept going.

"Seamus?" I whispered, interrupting his monologue.

He sighed. "What is it?"

"You realize Dean's asleep, right?"

"No he is—oh."

It suddenly felt very empty without his voice filling the air.

"Seamus?"

"Yes, Bridey?"

"Why are we sleeping here?"

"Because Percy told us it was time to."

"Don't be an eejit. You know what I mean."

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to tell you. You're just going to worry."

"If you don't tell me, my mind will jump to conclusions far worse than what it actually is," I reasoned.

Seamus snorted; I could just imagine him rolling his eyes. "I doubt it."

"Just tell me then."

"Sirius Black broke into the castle."

I fell silent. Before, Sirius Black never seemed real—he was just a fictional man created to scare us. The dementors were just a silly precaution. Suddenly, it felt very real.

"No one knows how," he continued. "Dean reckons he flew in, though."

"How do you know he was here?" My voice was hoarse.

"Peeves said so. He slashed The Fat Lady when she wouldn't let him in."

"…The Fat Lady?"

"The portrait that's the entrance to Gryffindor Tower," he explained.

"Oh."

We both fell silent again. His hand reached out and squeezed my fingers gently; for once, I didn't protest.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah; he didn't hurt _me_; I just feel bad for that fat lady…"

"I was talking about your face; I don't know what I'd do if he had gotten you."

"Well, your mom would kill you for starters," I replied, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled, but it didn't hold the same mirth as it usually did.

"So your face?"

"It's fine; just a little bruised. There was a scrape, but Madam Pomfrey fixed it right up. It could have been worse; I could have broken my nose or something."

Seamus hesitated for a moment before saying anything else. "Face plant?"

"Naturally."

"Do I know my Bride or what?"

I felt the old familiar tingle at the nickname; the butterflies in my stomach kicked out of hibernation and started to flutter about. I scowled into the darkness at them, but they didn't notice.

"You worried me, you know."

"When?"

"When I saw those bruises on your face.

"Could have fooled me," I scoffed.

"I was!" he insisted.

"You've never been worried about me."

"Oh, Bridey, you have to know that isn't true." He sounded almost sad as he said it.

"Goodnight, Seamus," I said briskly, turning my back to him.

He stayed silent for a long time. I lay awake, listening to see if he'd say anything else. After a few minutes, he murmured, "Believe what you will," and turned over in his sleeping bag.

I was almost asleep when I heard a whisper so soft that it almost blended into the background hum of nighttime whispers.

"Sleep tight, Bridey."

* * *

**a/n** See some unfamiliar words or phrases in there? That's because they're Irish. I got the idea to incorporate actual phrases and words from the Irish language from **Alyss Madigan**-hope you don't mind. So, now I am going to do what she also does, and that is provide a key so you can know what they were saying.

**Eejit-**idiot  
**Damnú air**-Damn it  
**Cac**-Shit  
**Póg mo thóin-**Kiss my ass.

And I think that was it!

Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you to all my reviewers, and also to my good friend Bri! I hope this chapter made you laugh, because it made me laugh as I was writing it.

Reviews are always appreciated.

xoxo


	5. Chapter Four

_**Chapter Four ‡Sick**_

* * *

Quidditch was nothing new to me. My father had played professionally for the Kenmare Kestrals for a number of years until he got into a bad scrape involving a bludger and the goal posts and he couldn't play any more.

The British-Irish league still sent him free tickets to the games on occasion, and we found other games to go to as well, so I had grown up watching Quidditch. I knew all the rules by heart, and had I _any_ amount of skills at flying, I could have been a pro at the game.

The first Quidditch game of the school year was finally here, and I found myself excited to see a game for the first time in years. I had been to all sorts of professional games, but I had never seen people my own age (or close to it) play before. And it was hard not to get excited with all of the hype about it. The game was to be Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, which was always the most intense game of the year. Gryffindor and Slytherin had the biggest rivalry in the school; winning that match was _always _a huge deal.

The weather in the week leading up to the match had not been ideal. The cloud was grey; the wind was ferocious; rain was falling heavily from the sky in steady streams.

The day before the match, things weren't looking any better.

Sitting in the Great Hall, I looked up at the sky with trepidation. There didn't seem to be any chances of this clearing up in time for the match, and I felt my excitement for it waning. I liked the rain, but this wasn't rain—it was a waterfall cascading from the jagged grey stone in the sky.

"Un-bloody-believable!" someone half-way across the hall from me roared.

Without even looking, I knew who it was. I would recognize that indignant roar anyway.

Seamus was looking quite the buffoon, standing up at the Gryffindor table. His face was red—he had such a quick temper—and his ears were sticking out of his hair most peculiarly. There was a brief hush as people turned to find the source of the noise, but Seamus quickly fell back to his seat and returned to his conversation with his friends.

I rolled my eyes and turned back to my own friends.

"What was that about?" Emma wondered, glancing back at Seamus curiously.

"Something stupid, no doubt," I replied casually, taking another bite of my shepherd's pie.

"Aren't you even a little curious?"

I pretended to consider this for a moment. Opening my mouth, I paused again, knitting my eyebrows together and lifting my finger. "No."

Emma just shook her head and returned to her meal.

I found out later what it was Seamus had been freaking out about when I overheard Terry Boot talking to Anthony Goldstein in the Common Room.

Slytherin had withdrawn from the match under the claim that their seeker's arm was too injured from some hippogriff "attack" to play, though they were probably just trying to avoid the bad weather. The game was now Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff, which, I had heard, was never as exciting. Apparently, Hufflepuff was no competition for Gryffindor.

Seamus had always been a big Quidditch advocate, and he liked for there to be a contest, so I assumed this was the news that had caused his outburst. Though he could also be annoyed by the cowardice of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

The next morning was the Quidditch match. As suspected, the sky was still a stormy grey. The distant rumble of thunder and the roar of the wind was the soundtrack to our breakfast. I was seriously beginning to consider just skipping the game and passing the morning in front of the fire with a good book.

"You can't do that!" Willow insisted. "It's the first Quidditch match of the year—you can't miss it!"

"I don't know…I think I'm with Bridey on this one," Emma said, looking uncertainly up at the ceiling, which was bewitched to look like the sky outside.

In the end, Willow won, and Emma and I were dragged to the Quidditch pitch. My umbrella was whipped right out of my hands as I ran against the wind. Abandoning it, I ducked my face and pulled my robes up over my head before continuing to run blindly after my friends.

"You're going to run into something like that!" someone shouted at me in an attempt to be heard over the howling wind.

I glanced up. Feliks.

I wasn't sure how he had gotten there, or where the rest of my friends had disappeared to, but I was glad to see him.

"Lead me!" I demanded; he draped his arm over my shoulder, drawing me close to him, and led me to the stands. Emma, Willow, Ivory, and Azura had already taken seats with Rudy, Derek, and Edward.

"Where's Harmon?" Feliks asked, depositing me in the empty seat beside Azura as he moved to sit with the boys.

"Decided to skip the game—go to the library instead," Rudy answered; he sounded as relieved as I felt. It was nice to know that someone else was as fond as Harmon Weathers as I was.

"Not too fond of this weather," Edward explained, looking up at the almost-black sky.

"Can't imagine why," Azura mumbled wryly, brushing a wet strand of black hair off her face. She pulled her cloak more tightly around her, shivering.

Suddenly, seven blurred figures dressed in scarlet stepped onto the field. From the other side staggered on seven more figures, these in canary-yellow. I couldn't imagine having to play in such weather; personally, I knew I'd be off my broom in a matter of seconds. I'd probably slip right off the handle…

As the fourteen blurs mounted their brooms and rose into the air, the girl on the other side of me—who, up to that point, I had paid no attention to—turned to me.

"Who are you rooting for?"

The first thing I noticed about her was the yellow-and-black scarf she had carefully thrown about her next. The second thing was the honey-blonde hair pulled into a messy bun—Rosemary Andersen.

"Hello Rosemary," I politely greeted, smiling slightly at her.

She smiled brightly back, her entire face lighting up. "Hello, Bridey. So, Hufflepuff or Gryffindor?"

She stared expectantly at me as I considered my answer. Clearly, she wanted me to say 'Hufflepuff,' but I wasn't sure if that would be an honest answer.

"Oh, I don't know…I would be happy for either team if they won."

"I would be, too," Rosemary smiled. "I mean, of course I would prefer Hufflepuff to win, but Gryffindor isn't Slytherin…so it's okay if they win, too."

Unsure of what to say, I just smiled and nodded. She smiled back before returning her attention to the game.

Willow and Rudy were talking animatedly about the game, shouting and groaning whenever things didn't go their way. I wasn't sure how they could see what was going on, or even muster up the energy to get all excited about it. Weather like this made me sleepy; all I wanted to do was curl up under a blanket by a window or the fireplace—either would do—and read.

A flash of lightening illuminated the black sky; a moment later, the seven soaking-wet Gryffindor players came down.

"What's going on?" I asked, turning towards Azura.

She shrugged. "It's hard to tell…Looks like Gryffindor called a time-out. Who knows why, though; I can't see anything through this bloody rain. Can't hear the commentary, either," she said crossly, brushing her wet hair from her face again.

Knowing that I would get no further answers from Azura, I leaned passed her to face Willow. She was huddled close to Rudy—and, for this, receiving dark looks from Ivory—discussing the match.

"Could either of you tell me what's been going on? I've gotten a bit lost."

"Yeah, sure!" Rudy exclaimed, pulling away from Willow and flashing me a grin. "How much do you want to know?"

"Oh, just the basics; I don't need to details."

"Well, if that's all you want—Gryffindor is fifty points up from Hufflepuff."

"They do that by throwing the quaffle—the red ball you might see—through the goalpost five more times than Hufflepuff," Willow interjected.

My face fell and I glared at Willow. "Just because I'm having trouble concentrating through this translucent curtain of rain does not mean I don't know the rules of Quidditch; I have been to more games than I can count. My dad played for the Kenmare Kestrals," I said coolly; I didn't like the way Willow was talking down at me; she could be such a know-it-all.

"No bloody way!" Rudy exclaimed while Willow just stared at me with wide eyes, her jaw hanging open. "That is so cool!"

"What's cool?" Feliks asked, leaning forward so his face stuck out between Azura's and Willow's.

"Bridey's old man played for the Kenmare Kestrals!" Rudy exclaimed, grinning.

"No!" Feliks breathed as Derek and Edward turned to look at her with disbelief.

"Yes," I confirmed.

"How is it that you are so hopeless on a broom then?" Azura asked, knitting her eyebrows together curiously.

Leave it to her to be so blunt.

"Yeah, how is that?" Feliks added, turning his attention to me.

I scowled. "I dunno. Me mum was on her House team, as well, so it isn't like I inherited it from her."

"It's all you, eh?"

"I suppose you could—"

"Wait a minute—your dad is Brian Byrne? _The _Brian Byrne?" Willow interrupted, finally breaking out of her shocked stupor.

"Er…yes?"

"I was going to ask you that earlier, but then I saw you fly and I decided you couldn't be—" My face fell again; it was so great that _this _was what I was known for "—but you _are_!"

"Yes…I am." I paused. "Am what?"

"Brian Byrne's _daughter_ of course! He's famous in my family, you know—my mum's favorite Quidditch player. Shame though—what happened."

"Well what happened?" Derek asked, suddenly enthralled by the topic. I looked around, and suddenly it seemed as if everyone was listening. I looked over to my other side, and even Rosemary and her two friends seemed to have taken their attention away from the game and were looking at me.

"There was an…incident…six years back, and he couldn't play anymore after it." My dad had a good sense of humor, but this wasn't a story he went around telling; I had a feeling he was still a little sore about it.

"Well what was the incident?" Edward pushed.

I didn't even have the chance to tell everyone to bugger off and that they shouldn't pry into other people's business. Willow, clearly too excited by the whole subject, felt it was her duty to inform our classmates of my father's Quidditch downfall.

"Well, Brian Byrne was a Chaser for the Kestrals—a bloody good one, too, from what my mum tells me—and he was about to make _another_ goal—they were something like one-hundred points up—when one of the beaters from the other team _wailed_ a bludger at him. It hit him right in the stomach and—still holding the Quaffle—straight through the goalpost. He still got the point, because they had no rules against that—it had never happened before—and they got a foul. The Kestrals won, but Byrne could never play again."

"Well why not?" Ivory demanded; no one was looking at me anymore—they had all turned to Willow, who was clearly the expert on the subject.

"When he went through the goalpost, his legs were broken from the impact; St. Mungo's apparently fixed him up, but something went wrong and he couldn't fly right anymore. Plus, there was probably some psychological damage. It isn't everyday a bludger carries you half-way across a Quidditch pitch and through a goalpost."

"Whoa," everyone breathed, turning in unison to look at me.

"I'm sorry—I couldn't help hearing—is your dad okay?" Rosemary asked, lightly touching me on the shoulder.

I turned abruptly and was startled by the genuine concern on her face.

"Y-yeah. He's fine," I replied. This was true, mostly. He had trouble walking sometimes, and he couldn't fly as well as he once could; also, he still wasn't completely over his Quidditch days. But, really, he _was_ fine.

"Good." She smiled brightly and turned back to the game, satisfied with my answer. I smiled for a moment in return before turning towards Willow, my face instantly falling into a deep frown.

I was tempted to tell her off—to yell at her, let her know that that wasn't her story to tell, and if I wanted everyone to know, I would have just told the story myself. As usual, though, I didn't get my opportunity, because at that moment, everything went cold—and I mean really cold. The rain and wind had already been chilling, but this was a cold I felt in my soul. A despairing cold.

I had only ever felt this cold once before—on the train to Hogwarts. I knew right away what it was causing this—the dementors.

My hand instinctively clasped at my necklace. My mind was reeling—images were flashing in my eyes. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, thinking that maybe that would shut it out, but all it did was make them more distinct.

Every negative thing I had ever felt about my self—every time my parents yelled; every time my great-grandma visited; Seamus changing; Seamus leaving; Seamus destroying my room…It all sped through my mind a million times; I felt as if a hand had reached into my heart and was clenching it.

And then it was over.

I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. The weather was still horrible, but I felt a million times better. Something felt wrong though…

"What happened?" I asked, panic setting in. "Why were they here? What-" I looked back toward the pitch; it was oddly still. "What happened?"

"Harry Potter fell off his broom; Hufflepuff caught the Snitch," Rosemary informed me since my friends were oddly still. She didn't sound as pleased as I would have thought she would.

"So they won then?"

"Yes."

"Oh…" I looked back towards the field. Dumbledore had swept down onto it and was yelling at the dementors as Harry Potter was escorted off the pitch, followed by the rest of his team.

Slowly, everyone piled out of the stands, but I couldn't move.

"Do you think he's alright?" I whispered, my eyes still trained on the spot where I had seen Harry Potter laying.

Emma appeared beside me and grabbed onto my elbow. "He'll be fine. Let's get inside, hm?"

"Why were they here?"

"I don't know, but they won't be coming back. Professor Dumbledore looked very angry…Come on, Bridey—let's get inside before we catch out death."

I allowed Emma to lead me back to castle, but I couldn't shake an image from my mind—a very disturbing image where Harry Potter was replaced by a certain sandy-haired individual.

The very thought made me sick to my stomach.

* * *

The Gryffindors were annoyingly pouty after the match. It was scary when Harry had fallen, but they were all being a bunch of babies. It was just a Quidditch match—none of their lives depended on the outcome. Even members who weren't on the team couldn't stop complaining about it.

Apparently, the Hufflepuff Seeker and Captain had wanted a rematch after he had seen what had happened to Harry, but Madam Hooch wouldn't allow it; he wasn't too pleased, either, the rest of the Hufflepuffs were ecstatic. I had a feeling that they hadn't won a match in a very long time.

If at all possible, the Slytherins seemed even more gleeful than the Hufflepuffs. They couldn't stop gloating, as if they had had any part in it. I almost suspected that they had something to do with the dementors coming onto the field, but I didn't think they were actually smart enough to come up with something like that.

It was only the Ravenclaws who seemed indifferent about the whole thing. Many congratulated the Hufflepuffs and expressed their sympathies to the Gryffindors—I didn't do either, since the game didn't affect me in the slightest—but no one complained about the outcome, and discussions didn't last past the night.

By the next morning, however, the Gryffindors weren't over it.

I passed by their table on my way to breakfast and spotted Seamus staring glumly at his food. His eyes and nose looked alarmingly red.

I stopped in my tracks, staring at him in disbelief.

"Are you joking me?"

He and Dean both looked up, alarmed.

"Have you been _crying _about this Seamus? It's just a bloody _Quidditch _game—you don't even _play_!"

"I haven't been cryin'!" he exclaimed indignantly; it was followed by a sniffle.

I stared pointedly at him; he scowled in return.

"I have allergies, Bridey!"

"Seamus Finnigan, you little liar! You don't have allergies—especially not to the rain."

"How do yeh know? Yeh don't know everything about me, Bridey."

"Maybe so, but I know you don't have allergies."

"Seamus just has a little cold," Dean explained. "Rain doesn't sit well with his frail physique."

Seamus scowled at his friend. "I don't have a 'frail physique'—what a load of rubbish. And I don't have a cold, either."

"Then explain the red eyes and stuffy nose," I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I…okay, fine. I have a wee bit of a cold—it's nothing to worry about. It'll pass in a few days."

"You know what would make it pass even faster?" Dean said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"I'm not going to the Hospital Wing for a bloody cold—I'm perfectly fine."

"Some Pepper-Up Potion would be just the trick for you," I piped up; I could feel a smile tugging at my lips. "We could take you up right now—"

"No, I'm fine," he insisted, gritting his teeth. "Now run along little Bridey."

"You're ridiculous."

"Toodle-oo now." He wiggled his fingers at me, his eyes glinting in their usual mischievous way as he smirked.

I just rolled my eyes and walked away. Seamus could be so difficult. Of course he was sick—how could he deny that he was sick? He had the immune system of a small child. He could stand out in a light drizzle for five minutes and catch a cold.

But I wasn't going to let myself worry about it. He was a big boy now—he could take care of himself. If he decided not to get some Pepper-Up Potion or to do anything to help himself get better…well, that was his decision. No-way, no _how_ was I getting involved.

* * *

By Tuesday, Seamus was still sick.

I could hear him coughing from halfway across the Great Hall. It sounded as if he was hacking up a lung. He kept sniffling, too. Whenever I looked at him, he was rubbing his nose on some old hanky. His eyes were red, and when he spoke he sounded congested.

And yet he still refused to go to the Hospital Wing.

But I wasn't going to get involved.

Really.

* * *

Wednesday afternoon, I didn't see Seamus at lunch. I hadn't seen him that morning, either.

Not that I had been looking for him, but the absence of coughing was quite noticable after hearing it every time I entered the Great Hall for the past three days.

I casually stopped by the Gryffindor table on my way out. Dean was sitting with some boy with ears that stuck off the side of his head and bad teeth, but Seamus was—as I already knew—not there.

"Hullo, Dean," I greeted, smiling ever-so-slightly at him.

He looked at me in a most peculiar way before hesitantly replying, "Hello…"

"Has Seamus finally decided to go to the Hospital Wing then?"

His confusion cleared up and his lips twitched into a smirk. "No. He's so stubborn…He's up in the dorm, sleeping."

"What a stupid boy…sick, and now skipping classes…" I rolled my eyes and shook my head. ", I'll be going then. Bye-bye Dean."

"Bye, Bridey…"

Grabbing Emma—who had been standing silently behind me—by the elbow, I dragged her out of the Great Hall. She stumbled clumsily along after me as I power-walked down to the dungeons.

"Bridey?" Emma said hesitantly. "Bridey, are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine. You seem annoyed."

"I'm not."

"Speaking through gritted teeth doesn't really support your argument, now does it?"

I didn't bother to reply. I knew she was right—I was annoyed—but I didn't want to admit it. It was not my business to get annoyed at—if Seamus wanted to stay sick and skip classes, that was his right. He could be an eejit for as long as he wanted—a.k.a. all of eternity—and I wouldn't try to stop him.

* * *

By dinnertime, I gave in.

I don't know why, but I found something about absence disturbing. All I could imagine was him lying on his deathbed, the lung he coughed up lying on the floor beside him.

I couldn't eat.

Of course, I didn't know anyone who would be able to eat after picturing a lung lying on the floor, so that was only natural.

Except maybe Rudy and Willow.

So, as much as Seamus bothered me, I couldn't just leave him sick in bed. I had always played nurse to his illness—since he had _always _had a strange aversion to Pepper-Up Potion, don't ask me why—and I didn't see why that should change now.

Unfortunately, I didn't know how I was to go about doing that. I had classes and homework to take care of; I couldn't just drop everything to take care of his every whim like I could when we were younger.

I bit my lip and looked thoughtfully up and down the table. That was when it struck me—soup! I could bring him soup!

Of course, there _was_ no soup…how typical.

I had read somewhere about some rule that food couldn't be materialized out of nothing—it was one of Gamp's Laws, I believed. That meant that the food had to have come from somewhere—but where? I had never come across a kitchen or heard of who made the food.

"Terry?" I asked timidly, scooting closer to him. Of everyone I knew, I figured he was most likely to know the answer to my question—after all, he was the oldest of everyone I knew. Except Seamus. Seamus didn't count.

"What's up, Bridey?"

He had the kindest blue eyes—nothing like Seamus's eyes, always laughing at me. Terry had gentle eyes—sweet eyes. Seamus had mischievous Irish eyes.

"I was just wondering…is there a kitchen here?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Where is it? I've never seen it."

Terry paused thoughtfully before replying, "It's in the basment, sort of by the Hufflepuff Common Room. It's behind the painting of a fruit basket. Why?"

"Oh…no reason…" I drifted off, allowing my eyes to pass over to the Gryffindor table. My face was burning from my lie."How do you get in?"

"Just tickle the pear."

"Excuse me?" I coughed, nearly spitting my pumpkin juice all over him. "Tickle the pear?"

"Yes, that's what I said," he responded, an amused smile gracing his lips. "I know it seems rather bizarre, but this is Hogwarts after all."

"Oh, okay…If you say so," I said nervously; my stomach twisted uncomfortably. "Well, I'm going to go now. Thank you, Terry." I slipped out of the bench and started to walk away, not bothering to let anyone know that I was leaving, when he grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

"What are you up to, Bridey?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing!" I practically squeaked. "I just need to…take care of some…business…"

"Alright…" he said, letting go of my arm. He still didn't sound quite convinced, though. "Stay out of trouble, Bridey."

"I will," I promised. My heart leapt a little as he smiled at me.

"Okay."

I could feel him watching me right until I was through the doors. The thought made my stomach turn, and I sort of wanted to break out into an unexplainable fit of giggles. But now wasn't the time for that—I was on a mission.

Terry said that the kitchen was by the Hufflepuff Common Room. I turned left and took a few hesitant steps, then stopped. I didn't know where the Hufflepuff Common Room was! Why would I? Was I supposed to?

I paced back and forth a few times without coming up with any sort of plan. Non-plan making takes an awful lot of brain power, though, apparently, because I didn't even notice as the door to the Great Hall opened and two small figures came out. It was only when I heard their footsteps retreating behind some unknown door that I took notice.

Suspecting that they might be Hufflepuffs, I rushed to the door I thought they disappeared behind anf wrenched it open. Behind it was a narrow corridor followed by a staircase. Trusting my instincts, I slipped through the doorway and hurried after the people that—I hoped—had disappeared down this hallway.

After a few panicked moments, I caught up with the figures. I instantly recognized the perfect honey-blonde hair swinging before me as being Rosemary Andersen. The shorter girl walking beside her the mousy brown hair was Elizabeth Benson.

I must have been getting too close because suddenly Rosemary stopped and grabbed Elizabeth's arm. Slowly, she turned her head; she looked quite frightened, but when she saw me her face lightened.

"Oh, hello Bridey! I thought you might be Sirius Black—I was so worried! What are you doing down here?"

Rosemary Andersen was possibly the sweetest girl in the world, but she was a bit simple. As if Sirius Black would just casually walk down the corridors of Hogwarts.

"I was just…looking for the kitchens. Do you—"

"Oh, of course! Here, let me show you!" Turning back towards Elizabeth, she said, "Would you like to come with us, Lizzy, or are you just going to go back to the Common Room?"

"I'll just…meet you at the Common Room," Elizabeth replied timidly, glancing in my direction. I smiled softly at her before she turned away. I would have made the same choice. I had never spoken to her before, and that could be uncomfortable.

"So your dad really played Quidditch, did he?" Rosemary asked as I fell into step beside her. She had a very sweet, gentle voice. It was soft. I imagined she had trouble shouting, not that she would ever want to.

"Yes he did."

"That's so horrible, what happened to him. I am so sorry."

"Well…thank you?" I wasn't really sure how to reply to that.

She smiled. "Why are you looking for the kitchens, anyway?"

"Oh…um…I'm just hoping to get some soup…for a friend." For some reason it was easier to tell her than it was to tell Terry. Though I did use the term "friend" rather loosely. It was much easier to say than "this guy that I have known since I was born and who I don't particularly like all the time, but I feel bad because he is sick and I used to always take care of him."

"Oh, Seamus, is it?"

How did she _know_?

"Yes, actually."

"I knew by the way you said it."

"I thought I did a good job hiding my disdain," I frowned.

"Disdain? Is that what you call it?" she asked, bemused.

My eyes drawn together, I was prepared for a retort, but before any noise could escape my mouth, Rosemary came to a sudden halt.

"Here we are," she said, pointing at the portrait of a fruit basket. "You just tickle the pear to get in. Do you want me to stay with you?"

"No, I think I will be okay. Thank you, Rosemary."

Smiling brightly, she brushed a strand of hair that escaped her purple headband from her face. "It was my pleasure. I'll see you later, Bridey."

As she wandered off back down the hallway, I reached forward and hesitantly tickled the pear. It wiggled a little before turning into a doorknob. Pulling the door open, I slipped through the doorway into the kitchen.

Whatever I had been expecting, it wasn't that.

It was a huge room with five long tables set up exactly as they were in the Great Hall. Hundreds of leathery-skinned being with bat ears and tennis-ball eyes were scurrying about, cleaning up from the tables. Growing up in the wizarding world and reading excessively, I knew about all sorts of creatures that muggles wouldn't, but I had never been exposed to these before.

"Ex-excuse me?" I stuttered, gingerly taking another step forward.

All at once, movement stopped. As one, the bat-eared beings turned their impossibly large eyes on me. Then, they swarmed around my ankles. Most were bowing, but all were squeaking at me, requesting to be of service to me.

"Err-thank you? I was just hoping I could get some soup…"

"Of course!" one of them squeaked before scurrying back towards the kitchens; several other followed after her (?), some others went to take care of some other business, but a few continued to hover around me.

"May I sit?" I asked, pointing at a bench.

Several gasped, looking horrified. I quickly backed away from the bench, not wanting to offend anyone.

"No one's ever _asked_ to sit down before!" one of them wailed, its empty tray clattering to the floor. The others soon joined in, and I was left standing there, confused and slightly panicked, with no idea what to do.

"I'm—I'm sorry!"

They fell silent.

"Sorry?" one whispered, its eyes going even wider, which I wouldn't have thought was possible, though clearly it was.

"Never has anyone _asked _to sit before," another continued; it sounded as if it were stifling a sob.

"Oh…um…okay…I hope I didn't offend you?"

"**_Offend?_** Not at all! You are too kind!"

"Err-thanks…So, may I?"

As a response, they all went into an uproar and swarmed around me, each trying to be the one to help seat me on the bench. As soon as I was sitting, though, the soup was ready.

I shot to my feet, excused myself from those surrounding me, and hurried over to the soup. "Thank you…" I said, smiling brightly at the leather-skinned creature. "I'm sorry, but would you happen to have something to cover this with?"

The creature grabbed a tupperware container from the pantry and carefully poured the soup into it before handing it back to me.

"Thank you," I said again, accepting the container from its long-fingered hands.

Looking almost shocked, the creature stuttered, "Y-you're welcome, Miss!" in reply.

"Good-bye!" I called as I stepped through the portrait back into the basement corridor. The last thing I saw was one-hundred or more bat-eared creatures waving and bowing in return.

* * *

I was surprised by how easily I found Gryffindor Tower. I had been told that the tower was on the seventh floor and was guarded, usually, by a portrait of a fat lady. However, due to recent events—i.e. Sirius Black's break in—that portrait had been replaced by one of a rather annoying knight. I hadn't believed how bothersome he really was until I met him. He kept insisting that I duel him, and when I wouldn't, he—incorrectly—called me a knave and a coward.

It wasn't until I had been standing there a good ten minutes that I got worried. What if all of the Gryffindors were already in their Common Room, and I would have no way to get in?

Taking a deep, calming breath, I stepped forward, tuned Sir Cadogan out, and rapped my knuckles on his frame. All I could hear were his protests, so I tried it again. If I banged my fist against the frame loudly enough, someone was bound to hear me.

It was then that I heard light footsteps coming down the corridor. Stepping back, I turned and saw Jacqueline Reed coming towards me, her head bent down as she seemingly scribbled something down.

"Hello, Jackie!" I called out, startling her so that she looked up.

Jackie Reed was my partner in potions class. We got on well enough, and I was reasonably sure that she would help me out.

"Hullo, Bridey," she said, smiling briefly as she stuck her pencil—a Muggle device used very rarely in the Wizarding World; it is made of wood and has this soft material called graphite inside of it which, when pressed against paper (it doesn't work so well on parchment, really) makes a mark; sometimes it even has a rubber bit at the end used to erase the graphite marking—behind her ear. She untucked her auburn hair to hide it away.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, stepping closer. She was holding what appeared to be a pad of paper, though it was bright blue, so I wasn't exactly sure.

"I came here to give Seamus Finnigan some soup," I replied somewhat warily. I didn't really like to talk about Seamus with people; I didn't like people to know what we actually had a…relationship, of sorts. "I think it's gone a little cold by now." I frowned, feeling the container unsurely.

"Do you need me to let you in?" Jackie offered, her fingers flicking through the small, square pad in her hand.

"If you wouldn't mind…"

"Not at all. Could you just step back though? Can't risk you hearing the password…"

"Oh, of course."

I stepped back and plugged my fingers into my ears, allowing Jackie to whisper the password in pricate. The portrait of the obnoxious knight swung forward, revealing a hole in the wall and admitting us through it.

Jackie ushered me forward and I crawled through the hole into the Gryffindor Common Room—a round room very similar to the Ravenclaw Common Room, but with scarlet instead of blue, and far fewer books.

Jackie silently led me to the door on the left and pointed me up the stairs. I moved forward, but paused as Jackie began to speak.

"While you're here," she said hesitantly, playing with a square of blue she had pulled off a textbook, "do you think, when you're done with…that, that you could…help me? With the Potions essay?" Her eyes flickered to the blue before she looked at me again.

"Oh, um…sure. It will have to be quick, though. I need to get back to my own dormitory."

"Right, of course. Thanks," she murmured. Smiling slightly in my direction, she wandered off. I blinked after her before continuing up the spiral staircase, arriving at last at the third years' dormitory at the very top.

At first, the room appeared empty, and I was abiyt to curse Seamus Finnigan's name at my ill-luck. Then, there was a rustling of sheets at the bed nearest me, and a twinkling blue eye popped out between the covers.

"Dean, I—Bridey!" Seamus threw the covers off and blinked rapidly at me. "Bridey, what are you doing here?" A grin slid across his face. "Nurse?"

"I'm not here to play nurse, no—those days are over. I know your immune system is worse than that of a five-year-old-girl, though, and since you refuse to get some Pepper-Up Potion, I just brought you some soup." I lifted the container slightly before stretching it out in offering to him.

"I was beginning to lose hope that you'd come," he commented, accepting the container from my hand and ignoring my remark about his immune system. He lifted the lid and took a long sip. "It's warm."

"What do you mean?" I asked, cocking my eyebrow curiously at him.

"I mean it isn't hot, but it ain't cold either. It's in between, yeah?"

"Not that!" I snapped, tempted to knock the container from his hands. He wasn't really so daft that he would think that was what I meant. "The other bit. Why'd you think I would come in the first place?" I hadn't thought I would come; this was a surprise to me, so it was annoying that he seemed to know I would show up.

"Because you always come, Bridey. You put up a fight, but in the end, you can't resist me charms." He waggled his eyebrows at me; I grimaced, reswisting the urge to gag.

"You have a bogey," I noted blankly, my eyes lingering on a spot just below his nose.

He grinned impishly, splashing some soup as he set it down. Grabbing a tissue from his nightstand, he furiously wiped at his nose for nearly an entire minute.

"Is it gone?" He tilted his head back so that I had a clear view up his nostrils. I closed my eyes and looked away.

"Yes, I'm sure it is."

I could _feel_ him grinning at my response.

"I'm so glad you came, Bride," he said, reaching again for the soup. "I feel better already." He still sounded congested, but the way he stared at me as he said it—his blue eyes shining, boring into my own—was a little unnerving.

"Right," I said sharply, stepping backwards towards the stairs. "I'll be off then. Cheers."

"Thanks, Bride."

I stared at him for a moment, silent, before scampering away.

Jackie saw me as soon as I emerged from the doorway and stood up in a flutter of colored paper squares. She hurriedly picked them up, stuck them in her robe pocket , and walked over to me. I followed silently as she led me to the other doorway—the Girls' Dormitories. We walked up the spiral staircase to the second doorway—first years.

Only one other girl sat in there. She was a girl I recognized, but only as 'Miss Dunn.' I had never caught her first name. She was silent, sitting cross-legged on her bed, pouring over a Quidditch book as she practiced Wizard's Chess. Her hair, the color of dark chocolate, was pulled back into a sloppy bun. A few curls framed her face. Her sharp violet eyes were narrowed as she glanced at the chess board, scrutinizing the game with that one quick look. She didn't even look as us as we entered.

"Hullo, Randee," Jackie greeted, staring at the fluffy black teddy bear sitting on her bed.

I tried to hide my bewilderment from my face, though I wasn't sure how well I succeeded. She greeted her teddy bear?

"Hey, Jackie."

I gave a start; it said 'hello' back? Perhaps it was an enchanted teddy bear…I shuddered at the thought.

It was then I felt Miss Dunn's eyes on us and I realized who the voice really belonged to. Relief swept over me, and I blushed to myself, feeling foolish.

"Who's this?" Randee Dunn asked, eyeing me curiously.

"It's Bridey Byrne! Don't you recognize her? She's here to help me with my Potions essay."

"Oh, okay. Hello, Bridey," she said, warily extending her hand. "I'm Randall Dunn, but please, call me Randee."

I took her hand and gave it a brief shake. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too." She nodded, smiling ever so slightly, and turned back to her book and chess game.

"Please, have a seat," Jackie said, pointing at her bed.

I obliged, shifting her tedd-bear and various pillows so I wouldn't squash them. As she searched for her essay, I scanned over her belongings. Colored squares like the ones which had flown from her lap were stuck over everything. On each was a hastily scrawled message.

On her lamp, a pink paper read, "Is everything due for tomorrow done?" A yellow paper stuck to her nightstand said, "Tickle the pear." On her headboard was a whole line of notes, each with a different quote.

The notes even extended past her four-poster bed and its area. I spotted a few squares on the wall by the window, and some others posted on her dorm mates' beds. I wasn't sure if she was incredibly forgetful, or if she just liked them.

"Here it is!" She handed me a tightly bound scroll with a blue sticky note—"Ask Bridey if she could look this over."

I silently removed the note and handed it back to her. Then, undoing the ribbon which held it together, the scroll unwound, falling onto my lap. I quickly—but carefully00read over it, nodding slowly to myself as I read along.

Jackie watched, her hazel eyes filled with aprehension as she awaited my response. I finally looked up, blinked, and nodded.

"Looks good."

I didn't know how to critique, so even if I had really anything negative to say about it, I wouldn't know how, or even have the heart to do it.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's good. You know what you're doing; I don't know why you needed me to look over it."

"I never know what I am doing in Potions," Jackie laughed.

"Well, you know how to do research then."

"Thank you."

"Of course." I stood up, stifling a yawn as I took another look around the dorm. It was funny how similar the room itself could be, but how very different it felt. The red sheets and curtains should have given it a more lively feel, but instead it felt almost colder to me. The room was filled with the color from Jackie's sticky notes, and there were stuffed animals, pictures, flowers…it should have felt homey, but I couldn't feel comfortable.

"I should probably be going. It's late, and I'll probably get in trouble if I am caught out in the corridors." I started towards the staircase but paused, my eyes catching on the yellow note on her nightstand again—"Tickle the pear."

"Do you go to the kitchens often?" I asked Jackie, my eyes still glued to the note.

"Well…no. I've only been once, but I keep that there so I remember…just in case I ever get really hungry."

"Oh, okay…" I paused again, uncertain if I should ask. Taking a breath, I decided it would be alright. "Do you know what it is that _works _in the kitchen?"

"Oh, yes. They're house elves."

"House elves…" I trailed off, blinking. In the back of my mind it almost sounded familiar, but I didn't know why. "They're peculiar creatures, aren't they?"

"Oh, yes," Jackie agreed.

"Are you muggle-born?" Randee asked, her eyes flickering briefly towards me.

"No, I'm not."

"And you haven't heard of House Elves before? That's strange…"

I didn't think Randee meant anything by the comment, but I still felt oddly offended by it. I didn't like people to question my intelligence, and it almost felt as if she was taking a stab at it.

"It's just never come up," I said evenly.

"I didn't mean anything by it," Randee said, confirming my thoughts and reading my tone, despite the fact I thought I had covered it up.

"Okay. I really should get going. Goodnight, Jackie; Randee."

"Night," they said in unison, Jackie smiling at me brightly, Randee's eyes not even leaving her chessboard as she waved noncomitally over her shoulder.

I hurried down the spiral staircase, stopping just outside the doorway to glance in the direction of the other one. Seamus was up there, bundled up under his many blankets, maybe done with his soup, though maybe still sipping at it. I almost moved towards the door, but shook my head and hurried out of Gryffindor Tower.

I had had a busy day, and exhaustion was quickly settling over me. My eyelids were dropping by the time I got to my own dormitory. I went through the motions of getting ready for bed, but I didn't remember doing any of it.

When I was finally ready, I buried myself down under the covers and listened to the light drizzling of rain as if ran down the window. As I drifted off to sleep, all there was the image of blue and the smell of chicken soup.

* * *

**a/n** Hi! Another long chapter; I hope you liked it :) I'm sorry if there are any typos, but my computer is broken, and the versions of word which I have been using, I just can't figure out. There may or may not be abc check, I'm not sure...Sorry. Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please review, because I love feeback.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and favorited this story and put it on alert :) It means a lot to me.

xoxo

P.S. Jackie Reed is my friend Bri's creation :) She will be making more appearances, so I hope you like her :D I do.


	6. Chapter Five

**_Chapter Five_** ‡Christmas Cheer

* * *

Christmas was in the air. I could see it; could smell it; could _taste _it. It had started out slowly enough at first. Little things here and there would remind me of the approaching holiday, and I would feel a quick jolt of anticipation. However, once the first snow fell, I reached the point of no return—that point in holiday eagerness where nobody can open their mouths without me hearing a Christmas carol, and I couldn't look at food without thinking of the feast I had to look forward to, and each morning I woke up expecting to, by some miracle, find presents stacked under the small pine tree I had snuck into my dormitory. I could barely concentrate on my work, because every teacher looked like Santa Clause when I looked at them.

To say that I was a little excited for Christmas was something of an understatement.

When it was finally time to leave for the holiday, it was all I could do not to run around the castle singing carols at the top of my lungs.

I clambered into one of the horseless cariages with Emma, Feliks, Rudy, and Azura. As Harmon attempted to climb in after us, the door slammed itself shut and took off down the road. Azura let out a sigh of relief and slid down in her seat.

"I won't be missing him, that much is certain," she said with a slight laugh. "He's been all over me since Halloween. And I don't even think he knows that I've noticed."

"Well, being a Ravenclaw means that you are bright. It doesn't mean you're observant," Feliks noted, trying hard to suppress a smile.

"Or are a genius with social skills," I added.

Rudy crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. "That boy gets on my nerves. He's always looking over my shoulder, trying to correct my work. As if I need his help. I'm perfectly capable of doing well on my own. Not like you can cheat to get into Ravenclaw. I obviously made it on my own."

"He does the same thing to me! The only difference is that, with me, he's just trying to smell my hair!" Azura flipped her long black plait over her shoulder, her face scrunched up in distaste

"Guys, be nice," Emma said warningly. "He's not so bad!"

Feliks snorted. "You say that, but you've never caught him folding your laundry in the middle of the night. I'm telling you, there's something wrong with a boy when he sneaks around, folding his dormmate's knickers."

"Did he really?" Rudy guffawed.

"Oh yeah. I pretended not to see, because I didn't want to embarrass him, but it happened."

Rudy, Feliks, and Azura continued to recount little incidents about Harmon while Emma listened on disapprovingly. I, on the other hand, turned around to peek out the back window and watch as the castle grew smaller and smaller. As it receded into the distance, it became more and more the background, and less and less the focal point of the landscape.

Hogwarts was magnificent in the snow, and it probably would have been the most magical place to spend Christmas under different conditions. Like if my friends were staying. Or if I wasn't a little homesick. Or if my parents weren't afraid that Sirius Black was going to break in again and kill me.

They were under some sort of delusion that he was visiting Hogarts for the sole purpose of hunting me down.

The carriage pulled up to Hogsmeade Station and the five of us stepped out into the snow. Emma hooked her arm through mine, as was her custom, and rushed us off to the platform. Azura hurried after us, and the three of us huddled together against the cold, while Feliks and Rudy stood off to the side.

"Yes, Harmon, I am aware that Hogsmeade is the only completely wizarding village in Britain," I heard Ivory saying impatiently. "I live here."

"But do you know who founded it?"

"Yes—Hengist the Woodcroft. Really, you should stop trying to stump me with questions about my own village. If you are so determined for me to be wrong, why don't you try asking me about where _you _live."

Harmon ignored her suggestion. "Well, just because you _live_ here doesn't mean you know everything."

"But it means I know more than _you._ Oh look, there are the others!"

Ivory jogged ahead of Harmon to join our huddle just as Willow, Derek, and Edward came through the platform's entryway. She latched onto Azura's wrist, her eyes wide with frustration. Azura replied with a consoling hug, and then the wordless exchange was over.

"It must be wonderful getting to look at Hogwarts for Christmas, yeah?" I commented, my eyes flitting towards the castle looming in the background.

"Like a postcard," Emma added, her eyes following my gaze.

"A postcard?" Ivory asked confusedly as Azura and I gave her curious looks. "What's that?"

"It's a—well, it a photo…of a place…that is quite beautiful…and it's sent to people who aren't…at that place."

"So it's just a picture," I stated bluntly.

"Well, it's a _particularly nice_ picture. And you write a little note on the back."

"So, it's really nothing more than a nice photograph," Azura said authoritatively to the rest of us.

"No!" Emma demanded. "It's—it's—"

"Isn't she cute?" I interrupted, smiling brightly as I pinched one of her pink cheeks. She scowled, her blush growing.

"I hate being the only one of us who is muggle-born. No one ever knows what I am talking about, and I always look silly."

"I don't think you're silly," Ivory said sweetly as she reached up to pat Emma on the back. "I was just curious. I've never been exposed to many muggle terms, what with living in Hogsmeade and all. If anything, I think I look silly."

"You? Silly? Ha!" Rudy exclaimed, taking a step towards our circle. He smiled brightly at Ivory, who turned away with a red face. "That would be like saying Bridey's good on a broom."

Of course, Feliks immediately burst into a fit of raucous laughter, which immediately spread to the others like some highly contagious virus. Fortunately, my immune system was in top condition, because I did not get so much as a snicker.

"I don't see how it's necessary to bring that subject up. It is completely irrelevant. Besides, it isn't nice to bring suffering to others at Christmas time. And your remark, Rudy, has caused great pain for me. See?" I pointed dramatically at the big frown tugging at my lips.

"The suffering of one cannot surpass the joy of many. And look at all of the joy I have brought! That's Christmas cheer if I ever saw any!" Rudy countered.

"Yeah! You wouldn't want to deprive us of any Christmas joy, would you Bridey? We all know how much you love this holiday," Willow added.

I should have known my pre-Christmas fever would come back to kick me in the thóin.

"The hall is green, the eye is green! The prettiest picture to be seen is Christmas when kill Mommy!" Willow sang—or screeched, rather. Her singing left much to be desired. Like bandages for the ear drums, for example.

"It's '_The holly green, the ivy green; the prettiest you've ever seen is Christmas in Killarney,'" _I corrected impatiently, rubbing my ears not-so-discreetly to see if there was any sign of bleeding. "You should know that by now. I've sung it often enough."

"Are you even _from _Killnarney?" Azura asked curiously.

"Kill_ar_ney. And no, I'm fromBallinafad."

"Then why do you sing about Killarney?" Harmon demanded. "Wouldn't it make more sense to sing about your _own _town?"

"If there were any Christmas carols about Ballinafad, I would. As it is, there aren't."

"How do you know that there aren't? I'm sure if you did your research, you would be able to find—"

"_Harmon_!" Ivory exclaimed in exasperation. "Despite what you obviously believe, you do not know everything! You also are _not _the expert on every village in the United Kingdom—"

"—And Ireland," I cut in, since Ireland was _not_ a part of Great Britain.

"And Ireland," Ivory repeated. "You may know all there is to know about wherever you are from—"

"London. And I am quite aware that I don't know everything there is to know about London. I plan to further my research over the holidays. I think it would be beneficial to everyone if they would do the same. Then, I wouldn't feel the need to implement my knowledge on _your_—"

"I GOT IT!" cried Stephen Giordano just before he knocked into Harmon, effectively cutting him off from his lecture. The Gryffindor immediately sprung back to his feet, a Fanged Frisbee in his hands. He didn't offer a hand to Harmon. "Hey guys," he greeted, nodding at Feliks, Rudy, Derek, and Edward in turn. "Ladies." His eyes fleeted over each of us briefly, his mouth twisted into a smirk.

"Stephen!" Stephen's fellow Gryffindor, Donald Borne, called from half-way across the platform.

"That's me. Happy Christmas everyone." He nodded his head at our group collectively and took his leave.

"Happy Christmas!" I called after him, my enthusiasm for the holiday once again brimming over. He glanced over his shoulder at me with a bemused expression.

"You have a good holiday, Bridey."

"He's so polite!" I proclaimed brightly.

Harmon was dusting off the seat of his pants but stopped in order to put all of his energy into the dirty look he shot me. "Polite? _Polite?_ **_Polite?_** If that is the case, then why did he just plow into me, and then not even apologize or even help me up?"

"He probably didn't even notice. You're a small guy," Derek Vesey responded as he stifled a yawn. Deeming it was time to move on, he turned towards Edward. "What time is it?"

Edward pulled his hand out of his pocket to check his golden wrist watch. "It is ten past eleven." He frowned. "The train should be here by now."

"So should my parents!" Ivory mumbled, glancing around the platform as if that would magically make them appear amongst the hundreds of the students milling about.

"I'm sure they are both just around the corner," said Emma optimistically. "Bridey, we should probably look for Sandra. Remember, we had all agreed to sit together for the ride to King's Cross."

"Oh yeah." I had completely forgotten. And it wasn't that I didn't want to sit with Sandra. She just wasn't very big on Christmas. Every time I had mentioned the holiday in her presence, she got a dark look on her face and asked me not stop singing or to go away (Emma said that Sandra was a "Scrooge," which I can only assume means she doesn't like to be happy. It's hard to say, though, with these funny muggle terms.). It was hard to be around someone who had no interest in Christmas when it was all I could think about.

Plus I always felt as if she was judging everyone around her. She had this air about her that gave the impression that she was above the trite matters with which others concerned themselves. I had been too intimidated upon our first meeting to make any real opinion of her, but over the past few months my esteem for her had been faltering.

Maybe it w_as_ that I didn't want to sit with her.

"I guess I will see you all later then," I said with a dull smile. "Happy Christmas. Have wonderful breaks."

"Wait, where are you going?" Feliks demanded, grabbing me by the elbow before I could walk away.

"Well Emma and I had already made some seating arrangements, so we were going to go find our friend…"

"I'll come with you guys."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that."

"Well, there isn't enough room in a compartment for all of us anyway. We'd be at each other's throats…figuratively _and _literally. If I came with you two, then there'd be some more room for everyone else."

"Well, that sounds reasonable…"

More than reasonable, it sounded fantastic. Feliks was sure to be an excellent distraction from the condescending remarks Sandra was bound to make.

I didn't really know when my aversion to Sandra had started. In October, I was still on wonderful terms with her. I still spoke with her every morning at breakfast and even enjoyed her company. Now, I was dreading it.

"And Harmon can come, too!" Emma chimed in. Feliks and I shared a look of disapproval, but Emma was too busy beaming at Harmon to even notice.

"Those are _perfect_ seating arrangements!" Azura proclaimed, her gray eyes lighting up.

"Are you sure?" Harmon asked doubtfully. He was frowning so deeply that it pulled his eyebrows together. He looked cross-eyed behind his square glasses.

"Absolutely."

"Wonderful," Emma squealed, obviously pleased with her kind deed. She failed to notice the look of reluctance which Harmon wore as he moved to stand next to her.

* * *

Sandra found her way over to us before Emma and I could be pulled away from our fellow Ravenclaws.

Mr. and Mrs. Weems arrived just as the Hogwarts Express was pulling into the station. They were a pleasant couple, I decided. They smiled warmly as they shook the hands of each of us in turn. Then it was time to say goodbye and for us to hurry onto the train; Ivory smiled and hugged each of us affectionately.

She was exactly like her parents. Her face, hair, and complexion all belonged to her mother, but her slight stature seemed to come completely from her father. And where I could be no judge of character, having just briefly met her parents, it was a safe bet to say that she was the perfect blending of both.

The rest of us hurried onto the train together before parting ways. I took my time saying goodbye—unsure if I would see them again before we arrived at King's Cross—before trudging off after Emma and the others.

Rather than ebbing away, my eagerness for Christmas was stronger than ever, though not so pure as it had been before. My enormous desire to escape the endless hours stuck in a compartment with not only Sandra, but Harmon as well, had increased my interest in the holiday immensely.

And I hadn't even thought that was possible.

* * *

It was becoming unerringly clear to me that the Christmas season was the time when the most impossible things became possible. Sandra was noticeably less condescending and gloomy; Harmon was acting tolerably—he had been a bit mopey at first, but about half-way through the trip, he perked up. This involved him speaking mostly with Feliks and Emma, and I supposed he would have tried to talk to me as well, but after a while of listening to him talk and fearing I would be asked to join the conversation, I pretended to be asleep. And he hadn't once tried to "wake" me.

Miracles _did _happen.

Of course, the illusion was ruined—proven too good to be true—when Seamus came bursting into the compartment. He saw through my ploy immediately, and rather than play along, he decided to ruin everything. Which was just so typical of him.

"Bridey, open your eyes! I know you're not asleep!" Seamus shouted; the door slid shut behind him as loudly as it had upon opening. I cringed noticeably at the sound, but did not open my eyes.

"I'm not an _eejit_, Bridey. Yeh aren't sleeping."

"Maybe she _is_," Sandra said coolly. "She looks asleep to me."

"And who exactly would you _be_?" Seamus demanded. "Certainly no Bridey Byrne expert. I've known Bridey since she was born. She has pulled this trick on me countless times before—I can tell it's just a ruse."

"Maybe you don't know her as well as you think."

"Seriously, who _are_ you? You think I don't know my Bride?"

"Your _what_?" Feliks spluttered. I imagined that his eyes had widened to the size of saucers, and if I would just give up my trick, I might finally get to see what color his irises were.

"Seriously, who _are_ you people? I don't know a single fecking one of you!"

Incorrect—he had met Emma before. I was sure of that.

"I'm Harm—"

"That wasn't an invitation to introduce yourself," Seamus interrupted. He was being much ruder than I had thought possible. For the past four years, I had found him annoying more often than not. But it was the type of annoying which everyone else found so endearing and charming. This was a side of him that even _I _didn't know.

"If you are right, and she really _isn't _sleeping, then she doesn't seem to want to talk to you very much," Sandra said a little too smugly.

I didn't like the implications that her tone carried. As if I preferred her company over his, and I was just waiting for him to leave. As if _he _was the reason I was pretending to be asleep, rather than Harmon's incessant chatter and my aversion of _her_. I would have pretended to be asleep until we arrived at King's Cross to continue to avoid dealing with her if I didn't know that it would bring her some form of satisfaction.

So I "woke up."

I don't mean to be cocky, but I thought I was pretty convincing. I slowly sat up, stretching my arms over my head as I suppressed a yawn. I withdrew my legs from Feliks's lap, where I hadn't even realized I had stretched them. Then, finally, I opened my eyes and looked around the compartment.

"Oh, Seamus! When did you get here?" My voice sounded a little too chipper to have just woken up, but I hoped that nobody noticed that.

"You are full of malarkey, aren't you Bride?"

I didn't know how to respond. Admitting I had been faking it the entire time would raise questions about my motives. If I didn't explain, Sandra would jump to the conclusion that she was right. Which was really just silly, because I had shown no qualms about telling Seamus what I was feeling in the past—why would I this time? But I didn't want for everyone to believe that Seamus was wrong, either. It didn't matter how much Seamus irritated me, or how much I enjoyed getting back at him in even the slightest way. I firmly believed that when someone was right, it deserved to be recognized.

"Well," I began tentatively as I figured out the final details of my plan, "I _had_ been asleep for a while. But then you came bursting in here and slamming things about, and I woke up." I scowled, thinking it was probably an appropriate reaction. "I would have gotten up sooner, but I thought it would be fun to see how long it would take the rest of you lot to figure it out."

"But we didn't figure it out," Emma pointed out.

"I know that. But I was getting restless, and it didn't seem like you were going to figure it out any time soon."

"So you _were_ just full of malarkey then. See, I was right!" Seamus gloated. I should have seen it coming; Seamus was not one to take being right lightly. I wasn't sure if it was just because it was such a rare occurrence, or if he really liked to prove others wrong, but he had a tendency to celebrate a little _too_ much. Typically, it involved some sort of jig.

I hated it when he bragged.

And so, apparently, did Sandra.

As Seamus was performing his usual celebratory dance (which mostly involved flailing his arms about—he was no dancer), Sandra's face was growing darker and darker with a scowl so deep-set it made her forehead wrinkle.

I had never seen Sandra lash out, but I imagined that she had quite the temper. My mood had already plummeted since I got onto the train, and an angry Sandra could only provide an additional negative impact.

"In the spirit of Christmas," I said loudly, successfully terminating Seamus's unbearable dancing, "let there be no bragging or harsh feelings. Christmas is supposed to be a joyful time to spend with family and with friends. So, I feel it is necessary to ask—Seamus, what are you even doing here?"

I could tell this was not what anyone had been expecting. Emma and Sandra laughed appreciatively as Harmon smiled wryly; Feliks was actually pealing with laughter. I just stared at Seamus expectantly, my face even. His ears were red.

"Claddagh."

That was all he said—just one word. And then he left, as if that one _stupid_ word should satisfy my question.

"What does that mean?" Emma inquired curiously.

"I have no clue," I replied irritably, resuming my seat beside Feliks.

"Isn't that what your necklace is? A claddagh?" Feliks observed, his eyes fixed on my throat where the pendant sat—two hands encircled around a green heart. My hand shot up towards it and I rubbed it subconsciously between my thumb and forefinger.

"Yes it is. But that doesn't explain anything. My opinion is that when he doesn't know what to say, Seamus fills the silence with nonsense and disappears, leaving everyone wondering about what he meant."

"Everything he says is nonsense," Harmon stated. "The boy's a monkey. His intelligence is no bigger than the fleas he picks out of his friends' hair."

It took me a full minute to gather an intelligible thought. "And how would _you_ know anything about that?" I finally managed to splutter.

"He blows up everything that he touches. It doesn't take a genius to properly execute a spell."

"And where did you hear that?"

"He has developed quite a reputation," Sandra commented. "He's singed his eyebrows multiple times, and I heard he once even gave himself a bald patch."

"Well we shouldn't believe everything we hear. Seamus isn't stupid. He's a bit goofy, and he's stubborn, and he gets on my nerves. But he's actually very clever. And I will tell you, it can be fairly difficult to perform a spell when you have an accent as thick as his or mine. These spells weren't made by the Irish, for the most part. We say things differently. I know _I_ have had to repeat myself on multiple occasions to get a spell done."

"But _you've_ never blown anything up."

If that was supposed to be a compliment coming from Harmon Weathers, I didn't want it.

"That _you _know of," I snarled. I didn't wait for anyone to respond before getting out of my seat and leaving. I couldn't be with them anymore. They had succeeded in doing the two things that I thought would never be possible—they ruined my mood at _Christmastime_, and they made me stick up for Seamus Finnigan, something I had all but vowed not to do again three years ago. 

* * *

A few minutes later, I found myself sitting with Jackie Reed and Randee Dunn. I had been wandering the corridors in search of Azura, Willow, and the others, when I came across a seemingly empty compartment. Without thought, I threw open the door and stepped inside.

They barely even looked up.

I fell into a seat by the door, ready for a quick escape if I felt I needed it, and nothing was said about it. Randee continued to play her one-sided game of Wizard's Chess as Jackie went on reading _The Quibbler _and marking its pages with her colorful bits of paper.

"Bean?" Jackie offered, holding out a sac of Bertie Bott's to me.

"Yes—thank you." I carefully picked through until I found a cherry. There was something about cherry flavoring which was very soothing to me, so it was naturally my go-to bean when I was as frustrated as I was then. But, as I gnashed through the single jelly bean, I didn't find myself calming down. To the contrary, I felt my anger bubbling to the surface anew.

"Harmon Weathers is _the _most _insufferable—intolerable—"_

"Prick?" Randee suggested. Her eyes briefly connected with mine before returning to her chess match. I saw Jackie try to suppress a smile.

"Exactly!"

"I couldn't agree more. Just the other day, I was in the library playing chess—which you can see I do a lot—and he sat down across from me and tried to join in. When I _politely _told him that I would rather practice on my own, he took it upon himself to try to teach me. I told him that I knew perfectly well how to play—I'd been playing since I was in diapers, and my ancestors _created_ the game—which was of course complete bollocks, but I figured it would get him to leave me alone. Then he went on to tell me that Wizard's Chess was made by some bloke named Fabius Kronkite. So, I told him that that was my great-great-great-grandfather or something, gathered up my things, and I left."

"One time, he tore up all of my sticky notes, saying that if I didn't practice remembering things on my own, my mind was just going to deteriorate. Because of him, I forgot to do _three _essays. So, to get back at him, I've been leaving cryptic messages where I know he will find them. I don't think he's figured out that it's me yet," Jackie said with a grin, obviously pleased with herself.

"You don't leave them _on _the—erm…_sticky _notes…do you?" I asked delicately.

"No, of course not. He would know that they were from me then." She laughed like I had just made the most preposterous suggestion in the world. "So how has Harmon been bothering you?"

"He just thinks that he does everything better than everybody else and that he knows _more _than everyone else—about everything. And he's so snobby! Just because someone has blown something up once or twice, he thinks the person has the intelligence of a troll or something!"

"Do you mean Seamus Finnigan?"

How did people _always _know that I meant him?

"Yes."

"He's the one you brought the soup for, right?"

"…Yes."

She just smiled and said nothing more on the subject. But when she removed a pencil from behind her ear and started to work on a crossword in _The Quibbler_, she was still smiling.

"Do either of you know the name of an egg which is used in potions to enhance mental ability and are only sold on the black market? It starts with an 'r,' if I got that last one right…"

"How many letters?" Randee asked as I answered definitively, "Runespoor."

"R…u…n…e…s…p…o…o…r. Nine letters! That fits! I spelt it right, right?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Perfect. Thank you, Bridey." She quickly jotted a note down on one of her blue sticky notes, and continued with her crossword. I was curious about what she could have possibly written down, but I was too afraid it would have something to do with the purchasing of runespoor eggs to ask.

* * *

The sky was dark when the scarlet steam engine finally pulled into the station, but the platform was amply lit. Emma found me as soon as I stepped off the train and proceeded to plow right into me, nearly knocking me backwards.

"You never came back! I can't believe you didn't come back!"

"I meant to, I just lost track of time."

"Where did you go? Me and Feliks went looking for you. We found Rudy's compartment, but you weren't in it, and they said they hadn't seen you."

"Oh, I was sitting with Jackie and Randee."

"Oh, okay." Emma finally relinquished me from her bony grip, her arms falling to her side. "Who?"

"Jackie Reed and Randee Dunn. They're Gryffindors in our year."

"Are they?" She paused a moment, biting her lip. "Okay, I remember Jackie! She's the one with all of the sticky notes! But Randy? I don't know who he is."

"She. Randee Dunn is a girl. And she is probably still around, if you want me to point her out."

I scanned the crowd for her, but before I could catch a glimpse of her, I saw somebody else who made my stomach do a back flip. I couldn't help but watch as he greeted his parents with warm hugs and affectionate kisses, the brightest smile gracing his lips. His gaze lifted, and his eyes—such a gentle blue—found mine. I looked away quickly, my face hot.

"Bridey, are you alright?" Emma asked, leaning closer. She placed a hand on my forehead and frowned. "Why, you're burning up! Do you have a fever?"

"I'm fine," I mumbled, staring at my feet.

"Looking forward to the holiday, Bridey?"

Oh, no! He had come over! I wasn't sure whether to be happy or embarrassed. Either way, I felt sick. My stomach was turning in a most unnatural way, and the heat in my face had spread to my ears and all the way down to my hands.

"Oh, yes," I said quietly, barely daring to look up. "Are…are you, Terry?"

"Of course! Christmas is my favorite holiday! Are you alright? Um, _Emma_, is she alright?"

"I think she might have a bit of a fever," Emma replied authoritatively.

"I'm _fine. Really. _Just excited to go home," I assured them. It was mortifying to have my best friend discussing my health with _Terry Boot_.

This proved to be a satisfactory answer for Terry, who went on to agree with me whole-heartedly. The same could not be said for Emma, whom was still scrutinizing my every move.

"You two should probably be finding your parents! They're probably worried about you by now," Terry said suddenly. He looked over his shoulder at his own parents, who were engaged in a conversation of their own.

"Oh, you're right!" Emma said anxiously. "I don't know if my parents would even be able to make it through the barrier. They're probably worried sick…I should really get going. Bye Terry—Happy Christmas! And Bridey, I will write you!" She pulled me in a suffocating hug before starting to walk away. "Happy Christmas, Bridey!"

"You, too, Emma!" I called after her, though in my head I was mentally cursing her. Usually, after knowing someone for a while, you grow _more _comfortable with them, but the opposite was true for Terry.

"Do you want help finding your parents?" Terry offered. He was so sweet and genuine…it was hard not to be more than a little infatuated with him.

"Oh, no! Thank you very much, but I can find them on my own. Besides, you probably want to be going."

"It really wouldn't be any trouble."

"No, it's alright. Really."

"Well, if you're sure…" He looked over his shoulder; his parents had finished their conversation and were waiting for him to return. "I should get going then."

"Okay. Happy Christmas, then, Terry." I smiled unsteadily, holding up my hand to wave good-bye.

"No need to be so proper—it's Christmas!" he cheerily exclaimed. Then, without warning, he pulled me into a hug. I felt my breath catch in my chest; he must have felt the way my heart was racing, pounding against my rib cage. I hesitantly returned the hug, barely breathing. I wanted to run away and hide in shame, but I didn't want it to end, either.

But, unfortunately, it had to. He pulled away after what could only have been half a minute, at most, and smiled brightly. His face wasn't red like mine was. "Happy Christmas, Bridey," he said, and then he walked away.

I was too stunned to think anything of him pausing briefly to talk to Seamus. I was too stunned to even think about _why _Seamus could possibly be walking towards me.

All of the joy which Harmon and Sandra had sucked out of me had been returned ten-fold in that thirty-second period alone. There was no way I could ever be anything but happy again.

"Well, now that that _touching_ scene is over, are yeh ready to go?" Seamus asked. His eyes glinted mischievously and his mouth was twisted into a sarcastic smirk. I could tell he was doing everything he could to suppress a laugh, because his nostrils were flaring. They actually reminded me of Seamus's gloating jig, the way they flailed about.

"Ready to go where? I was just going to go find Mum and Pa."

"Ah, so they didn't tell yeh? They couldn't make it tonight, so you're coming home with me. Might even be spending a few days, by the sounds of it."

I had been wrong—so very wrong. I most certainly _could _be unhappy, because what I was feeling could only be described as dread.

* * *

**a/n** Sorry this took me so long to get out! I feel awful that I am such a terrible updater. I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed, favorites, or alerted this story. It means a lot to me :)

I am not too sure how I feel about this chapter, and I would appreciate honest opinions. I realized as I was writing this that I have no idea how to write from the perspective of an 11-year-old. Or even a 13-year-old. I guess all of the Ravenclaws are a bit precocious? Anyway, thanks for reading, and I truly hope that you enjoyed!


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